Of Flames and Jolly Rogers
by William Logan
Summary: Arrien, a young pyromancer, finds herself part of the vicious Bloodsail Buccaneers and quickly must learn how to survive in a world of treachery, deceit, and rum Please read and review
1. Chapter 1 The Apprentice

**Disclaimer: I don't own WarCraft, or much of anything really... I do however run the Mutineers RP guild on Sentinels server, characters from which are the inspiration for much of this story.**

**Of Flame and Jolly Rogers**

**By William Logan**

**Chapter 1: The Apprentice**

A soft breeze kissed the cheek of the teenaged, red-haired girl as she stood on the solitary hill, looking out over the sunset. She turned to the companion who stood beside her, deep red curls bouncing about on her shoulders, smiling up at the woman, studying her features. The elf had long, strawberry blonde hair held back by a silver tiara, a glowing blue gem set in the center of it, her blue eyes glowing softly in the dimming light.

"Ready to try again?" She asked the girl softly, a smile crossing her lips.

"Yeah... I think I can do it this time..." she made a slow gesture with her arms, a look of concentration bringing the freckles on her face tightly together around her nose, a sight that made the elf laugh softly, as she watched a small ball of fire appear above her apprentice's hand.

"Well, you've already proven you're a natural as far as pyromancy goes... now you need to learn to control it," the elf intoned, crossing her arms and leaning back on one leg, "Now... knock down the bottle on that fence over there without scorching the fence itself." The apprentice bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment, picturing in her mind the trajectory the ball of flame would need to take to destroy the bottle, then made a quick gesticulation, her emerald eyes fluttering open as the fireball left her hands and sped as fast as lightning towards its target, causing the bottle to explode into a thousand tiny shards. "Very good, Arrien!" Her mentor said as she clapped the young mage on the shoulder, "Now if only you could get down your arcane works as well as you can your fire magic..."

"Arcane isn't nearly as much fun as fire... it doesn't have the warmth and life, Miss Selessa... it's so cold and uninviting."

"So are many of the archmages," the elder mage grinned, "which is why many of them do not have companions and spend many dark hours alone pouring over books... never allow yourself to become like that. It is useless to have all the power in the world and never be out to enjoy it." The young apprentice nodded quickly, straightening herself up and rubbing idly at the freckles on her button nose. "The sun is going down... we should probably get you home for dinner."

"I'm really not all that hungry... more tired than anything else," Arrien said as she bent down to scoop up her bag full of scrolls and various spell components.

"Very well... let's head back to town and we can resume our lessons tomorrow," Selessa said, ruffling her apprentice's curls with a smile as they began the long walk back to Northdale.

"Have you heard from your sister lately, Miss Selessa?" The young mage asked, tilting her head slightly to the side, a curiosity lighting her eyes.

"Not particularly much, no... she's been out in the wilderness, as is her preference to be. She rarely finds time to come back to civilization. Such is the life of a ranger, though... completely dedicated to safeguarding the forests of the elves." she sighed softly, remaining fairly quiet for several minutes before speaking again, "Sometimes I think I'd not mind being out there with her... much less in the way of politics for the Farstriders to deal with than we mages have to deal with."

"Do all mages have to handle politics? I don't particularly like all the organization... I like freedom far better."

"When you bend the forces of the natural and supernatural to your will, people expect you to be able to help them make wise decisions for them... such is our curse." she chuckled melodically, "People seldom like thinking for themselves, particularly politicians." By this time, the sun had already completely vanished from the sky and the pinholes had been poked in the fabric of the sky to show the light of the stars. An odd chill for this time of the year blew through the mages' hair, though only Selessa felt an odd chill up her spine as she looked around the village they entered, people going about their business as normal. She shrugged it off as mere paranoia, however, and just continued onwards to her apprentice's home, knocking on the door.

"Ah, Magister Selessa," the kind-faced man who opened up greeted the elf with a short bow, "I trust my daughter behaved well enough for you? She's set fire to her bed several times in the past week..." He looked down at his daughter with a look of loving scolding.

"A fledging mage can only be expected to behave so much, like any other teenager," the elf laughed, "I must be on my way, though... I will see you bright and early tomorrow, Arrien... be ready by eight o'clock." The youngster nodded in reply and hugged her mentor. As the door closed, her father smiled at her, patting her head lightly.

"Your mother made some bread with the shipment of grain that came in from Andorhal earlier today... come, sit and have dinner with us."

"I am actually very tired, father... I may come down later to see if there is anything left over," Arrien said with a drawn-out yawn, "I need to study the somatic elements of a few of these spells before tomorrow morning."

"All right... rest well, my dear," he said with an approving nod as the young mage skipped up the stairs. "Such a good student, she is... much more promise for her with the Kirin Tor than I could have ever provided for her..."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, dear," Arrien's mother said, poking her head out from the kitchen, "you've been a wonderful father to her, and that's all she needs from you. Just support her and she'll do just fine... now come in here and help me finish up making dinner."

Meanwhile, upstairs, with a multitude of books unfolded before her, the diligant young apprentice had already passed out on top of one of her spellbooks.


	2. Chapter 2 The Plague Comes to Northdale

**Chapter 2: The Plague Comes to Northdale**

A loud crash caused Arrien to awaken in the middle of the night. Her eyes fluttered open, scanning her dark bedroom for the source of the noise. She carefully got to her feet, walking towards her doorway and cracking it open slightly. At the bottom of the stairs, in the moonlight, she could see a distorted shadow of a human figure.

"Father?" She called out quietly, stepping slowly down the stairs, trying not to make a sound. She could now see the vague outline of her father rummaging through cabinets sloppily, tossing things to the side, making odd, guttural noises. Outside, she could hear shouting and some sort of commotion, the drawing of steel and horses clamping. "Father? What's going on? I'm scared!" Her heart felt as though it was about to crawl up and out her throat.

"Slaughter all the beasts," she heard a voice shout outside the front door, "by order of the prince, just like in Stratholme... not one is to be left alive. It's better for 'em this way." At this shout, her father slowly turned about, and his face was shown by the moonlight. Arrien leapt back in horror to see that this was not the kind face of her father, but some sort of horrible distortion of it, his eyes having taken on a milky white death-like appearance, his flesh mottled gray, a small trail of blood dripping from his lip. He made a loud snarl, then quickly turned to Arrien.

"Father!" She shrieked, continuing to back up, "It's me, Arrien! What happened to you?" He began to advance on her, as he drew closer, she could smell an odd scent, one of death and decay, the slow rotting of unprepared corpses, something like the stench of meat left out too long in the sun. Another series of guttural moans and snarls escaped her father's throat before he lunged at her, grabbing at her throat, his mouth opening unnaturally wide. Arrien could do nothing except for scream as he closed in on her. She heard the front door shatter into splinters and a powerful voice shout.

"In the name of the Light, return to the Abyss from whence you came, foul creature!" A brilliant flash of light blinded Arrien and she felt the creature's fingers release her throat, its pained shrieks echoing through the house. This was no longer her father by any means, simply an empty shell brought to life by some horrible means, she began to realize. She watched in horror as her father's body burned, not with any sort of fire she could recognize, but with a dimly glowing light that gave off no heat. In her doorway, she saw a man clad entirely in shining gold plate mail bearing a blue tabard with a silver gauntlet, clenched in a fist. A glow surrounded his body, similar to the one that was consuming the monster that had seemed completely content to turn her into a meal, but apparently did not damage him in the least, in fact, it seemed to be that this man embraced the light, and it embraced him in return, framing his chiseled features well, causing his shoulder-length blonde and silver-streaked hair to flutter slightly, though there be no breeze, "I command you to cease, you abomination... your existance is an affront to the Light and to the natural order of things... perish in holy fire!" He shouted, and the corpse of Arrien's father was once again blasted with pure white light, although this time, it completely consumed him, disintegrating him to little more than dust and a few mean bones.

By this point, Arrien was reduced to sobbing that wracked her entire body, everything going on right now being far too much for her mind to process. The man in armor approached her, hefting his large hammer with a grimace, "My dear girl, I am afraid you are to be next... all infected persons must be slain... by order of Prince Arthas."

"What?" She cried out, tears streaking down her face, "No... I... I am not like them!"

"You will be soon enough... and this will ensure that you will not have to suffer as they," He lifted his hammer high with a shout of, "In the name of the Light, may it be---"

He got no further in his sentence before he simply froze in place, unable to move at all. Arrien was not sure if she should be even more confused or relieved, but then she saw a slender, pale hand on the man's shoulder and followed it up the arm to see the Selessa was standing behind him, a grim look on her face. Arrien rushed over and embrace the elf, continuing to sob.

"Did you eat any of your family's bread last night?" Selessa asked flatly, glaring at the armor-clad man before her. The red haired apprentice simply made a few odd noises, unable to gain her composure. The elf pulled the girl away from her, looking into her tear-filled eyes, her face betraying a deep concern, "Arrien," she snapped this time, "did you eat anything last night?" The girl managed to shake her head quickly, her mussed curls bouncing about, obscuring her face. Selessa then pushed Arrien behind her and placed her hand on the shoulder of the man again.

"---done!" he finished, bringing his hammer down on naught but air, splintering the floorboards. He whirled on his heel, glaring at Selessa and readying his hammer again, "You are interfering in the work of the Light, magic user... do not tempt fate."

"She is not one of them, she did not partake in any of the grain... now stand down, paladin, and do some good here. Try to find more survivors, there has been enough carnage tonight, what with Stratholme and this town..." Selessa hissed.

"Pray that we do not meet again, mage... there will be no survivors tonight. Take the plagued girl with you if you wish... she will devour you by sunrise," and with that, he turned quickly and rushed outside. Through the door, Selessa looked on in horror as more villagers were cut down in the streets, both the risen dead and the living alike.

"Hold tight to me, Arrien... this might feel a bit... odd." She muttered a few soft incantations Arrien didn't recognize and suddenly the apprentice felt as though her innards had become her outards and her entire body was upside down, a faint blue glow surrounded her, and suddenly, the entire sensation simply vanished, leaving her confused and nauseated. She dropped to her knees, noting that she was on the hill she had been training the day before. She stared out at the burning ruins of her town, and everything finally catching up with her, emptied the contents of her stomach onto the ground. She felt gentle hands place a cloak around her shoulders, shielding her from the cold that she hadn't even noticed until now, feeling completely numb previously, and the feeling still not quite going away inside.

"What happened... father... mother...?" Her sentences were barely intelligible, mostly just random tumblings of words that made sense to her at the time.

"The grain shipments from Andorhal were poisoned... tainted by some sort of cursed agent that kills those who eat it... but that's not all." Selessa's green eyes grew distant and unfocused for a moment, "It apparently also raises them into undeath."

"Necromancy? I thought that was forbidden..." Arrien muttered, slowly becoming a bit more coherent, trying not to think of her father, or, at least, the ruined pile of ashes that was once her father.

"It is... but that does not mean there aren't practitioners of the dark art about. I've known there has been some trouble with a small sect... the Cult of the Damned, they call themselves..." the elf mage ground her teeth together, "we thought they were harmless... a few misguided souls... but now... so much death..." She shook herself, bringing herself around again, before turning back to her young ward, "I am going to teleport you to a ship I know the captain of... you'll be safe there."

"What about you?" Arrien cried out.

"I will be fine... now close your eyes and try to ignore that feeling in your stomach. Captain Belnast won't be happy if you vomit on his deck," the elf offered a weak smile, a gesture the young mage did not return as she felt the odd blue mist envelope her again.


	3. Chapter 3 Birth of the Bloodsails

**Chapter 3: Birth of the Bloodsails**

Arrien felt herself slowly forming again, her stomach twisting and turning, and once again saw Selessa standing before her, looking absolutely no worse for wear. The younger mage envied her mentor at that moment, before she realized quite suddenly that the wooden floor beneath her wasn't standing still. She took a quick glance around and recalled that she had been teleported onto a boat, land coming up quickly to the bow.

"What the rottin' 'ell is this?" A sailor beside them sneered, gesturing wildly towards the pair of intruders, "a little girl an' an bleeding elf? This is a Kul Tiras warship, we've got no need for children an' pointy ears on this ship."

"Where is your captain?" Selessa spoke as if she was talking to a child, glancing around swiftly, taking in her surroundings. The dozen or so crewmembers standing around her, dressed quite neatly in the green and gold of the Kul Tiras merchant marines, were either staring at her as if they hadn't seen a woman in ages or with complete disgust, quite obviously sharing the one man's sentiment that elves didn't belong on their boat. Either way, Selessa shrugged them off and waited for a response.

"He's meeting with the Duke in his chambers... somethin' 'bout takin' us to help out Drisburg, undead invasion... Dwarf gryphon rider came an' told us 'bout it an hour ago or so. Don' really see why we're heading to help them out... rottin' bunch of Dwarves and Gnomes livin' there, anyway." The seaman spat out the racial names as if they, in and of themselves, were slurs. Almost on command, a voice came from behind Selessa.

"What is the meaning of this? Stowaways, do we have here, in my fleet?" Arrien and Selessa both turned to see two men, dressed quite richly in green with inlaid gold, standing before them. Arrien didn't recognize either of them, but she assumed the younger man with dark hair tied back in a ponytail was the captain and the more richly dressed, pompous looking old man wearing a large, red, plumed hat was the Duke.

"This girl is a survivor of the plague in Lordaeron... her parents are both dead and I wasn't sure where else to turn," Selessa explained quickly, "I only ask for safe passage for her."

"I know this woman, Lord Falrevere," Captain Belnast broke in, "she trained with my brother in Dalaran."

"Blasted pointy eared magic wielders... how do you know this girl, elf?" Duke Falrevere approached the pair, glancing at the teenager hunched over on his deck.

"She is my apprentice... very skilled in the arts of pyromancy."

"I have my own mages in my fleet," he gestured at the half dozen ships that trailed behind his own, "I don't need another juvenile one."

"I have no time to argue, sir... I am to head back to Dalaran at once to report to the Archmages so we can figure out a course of action." Falrevere scowled at her.

"I can't have another cursed mouth to feed in my crew," the noble sneered at her.

"She can have a share of my food, Lord," Belnast interjected, "I owe Lady Selessa... she saved my brother's life once, it is the least I can do. Besides, another mage might be helpful... and she could even continue her training with one of ours..." The Duke grimaced.

"Very well... she is your charge, Belnast," he stated coldly, "if she causes any trouble, I place it squarely on your head."

"You will not regret it, sirs," Selessa said shortly, bowing slightly, "And now, I must take my leave." She made a series of rapid gestures before vanishing in a deep blue haze.

"Do you have a name, whelp?" Falrevere asked, stroking at his well-trimmed beard.

"Arrien," the young mage managed, albeit rather weakly.

"Have you mastered any offensive spells, girl?"

"I can defend myself decently with the fire I wield, sir," she said, gathering herself to her feet, trying to gain as much of her composure as she could. At least, until she realized she was still in her bedclothes and the crewmembers were leering at her nubile form. She crossed her arms over her chest in a bit of a huff, her face darkening enough to slightly obscure her freckles.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen next month, sir." She stated matter-of-factly.

The duke shrugged, "Very well... you're old enough to be considered crew. You don't have any elf in you, do you?" He asked with a dark look, peering at her ears.

"Not at all, sir... just human," she quirked a brow at this question.

"Ah, good... our alliance with the other races does puzzle me greatly sometimes..." with this statement, he turned to the captain, "She's yours to do with what you will... I trust your judgement, captain." He then headed up towards the bow of the ship, where he could see the town of Drisburg slowly taking shape, smoke plooming from many of the rooftops. He watched in disgust as tiny dots flooded the town, clearly overpowering the defenders. The captain followed behind him, leaving Arrien on her own again, a few of the crew starting to approach her, their intentions quite clear in their eyes. However, one additional member of the crew came up, placing himself in between Arrien and the others.

"Nothing to see here," he said, "as if you lads hadn't sinned enough on your last shore leave!" The man turned back towards her, and she saw that he had a kind face, not too many years older than her, "Sorry... don't know what gets into them sometimes... welcome aboard. I'm Giles, the ship's head mage."

"I... I'm sorry... so much has happened today," she started to breathe a bit unevenly, trying to catch up in her mind.

"Don't think about it too much, lass... come, let's get you some water and a bit to eat," Arrien slowly nodded in reply.

"Everyone, pay attention," the duke shouted from near the bow, "after some deliberation... I have decided that it is too risky to try to aide the people of Drisburg." A couple of crewpeople cried in protest.

"We're to leave them stranded?"

"What of the women and children?!"

"Why risk all that we have to save a few dwarves and gnomes? Why should we risk our necks for them, they've not done very much for us... blast it all, I blame this entire undead affair on the elves and their meddling with the arcane! We humans are the only ones who can even show some restraint on that front, it seems!" More shouts of protest, Arrien almost opening her mouth, but she felt Giles grab her arm, pulling her back with a whisper.

"Things are about to turn ugly... I don't want to see anything happen to you after you managed to survive." Arrien looked at the ground, realizing he was right, even if she felt that an injustice was being done, who was she to protest? She noted that the captain was behind the duke, staring quite firmly at the floor.

"Flagman, signal to the rest of the fleet that we're turning about... Drisburg can burn for all I care. The Light help the few human souls living there." Falrevere grimaced, removing his plumed hat and placing it over his heart as an apparent mark of regret, though few of the protestors bought it, Arrien was certain.

"I'll do no such thing, sir!" The flagman replied from his post, standing quite firmly, "Those people need our help, and I'll be cursed to the depths before I abandon them." At this the duke calmly walked over to the man's post, and Arrien watched as the flagman watched him approach, unblinking.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," he said, patting the man on the shoulder before quickly drawing a curved dagger and shoving it into the flagman's chest, "may you enjoy your rest in the depths," and pushed the man overboard as he gasped for his last breath. Falrevere wiped the blood off his dagger with a handkerchief he pulled from his sleeve, glancing around the rest of the crew, as one of the other seamen raised the proper signal flags, "Anyone else?" Silence. "Very well, let's carry on then... we'll make port further south, near Menethil, to get word of the war."

Arrien turned to Giles, who was staring out at Drisburg, a grim look on his face, "Tis a shame... all those lives." Arrien simply remained silent, trying not to show the tears staining her cheeks. She dared not say anthing, having no desire to perish as the flagman did... this boat would be her new home as long as they'd have her, for better or for worse.


	4. Chapter 4 The Choice

**Chapter 4: The Choice**

Arrien spent the next four days in a bunk she shared with Giles and two other mages, one dark-haired male with a rather unfriendly disposition who specialized in cryomancy, or frost magic, and the other a fair-haired woman who was a master at twisting the forces of pure magic together, an arcanist through and through. Each of the three had volunteered to help her in teaching her in the way of magic, and she'd been working on casting several new spells they'd scribbled down for her on a piece of parchment. She kept at this quite intently, losing herself in the arcane gestures and ancient words of power. She vowed to never twist her power to the extent of those who had brought destruction to her village, death to her family. Every day she honed her art, still paying special attention to the works of pyromancy, as just uttering the words belonging to the pure arcane spells had a tendency to make her feel physically ill.

Giles was astounded at how easily she had picked up the art of the fireball, and now was trying to encourage her to be careful not to let her fires grow too strong, "lest you set off the powder kegs down below," he'd say with a laugh. Most of the crew was rather uneasy with what the duke had decided to do, though few of them were willing to say anything. Arrien didn't really think about the implications, trying to remain on the train of thought that if they'd landed, she would have ended up like her parents, although her conscience constantly nagged at her.

They had recently made berth at Menethil, and Arrien was grateful to be on solid ground and able to practice her spells. She still kept to herself quite a bit, but not nearly as badly as she had a week ago. She'd finally come to accept that she was an orphan, and that her few friends in the crew were becoming her new family, for better or for worse. At this particular moment, however, she was all alone, in a small clearing on the outskirts of town, doing what she'd been practicing for the past several months: blasting bottle off of fences with magic. With a swift gesture, particles of ice materialized from the air and shot forth, shattering one of the bottles. She then spun about and with all her concentration spouted forth a series of powerful words, glowing violet energy surrounding her hands, forming three purple balls that drifted forth, two of which sprang forward to knock down two separate bottles, the third flying out over the water, apparently harmlessly. However, unbeknownst to Arrien, there was now one fewer seagull flying over Menethil that day. She smiled, quite satisfied with herself.

"Good job!" The voice from behind made her jump, the fireball that was in her hand evaporating into nothing, "Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you," Giles apologized and bowed shortly, his near shoulder length blond hair brushing around his face as he did so, "but since you're my student now, I figured I should check up on your progress."

Arrien nodded breathlessly, a bit flushed from all the practice she'd been doing. She then turned about, concentrating on the fireball again, which formed in her hands, large and looming, and sped forth towards the fence. Bottles and fence were all consumed in the resulting explosion. She let out a whooping cheer, turning back to smile at Giles, who applauded her with a grin.

"You're quite a natural pyromancer, Arrien... it would have taken most mages your age months to learn to make a fireball quite that large and still control it well," he said, leaning against a portion of the fence that was still standing. "But how are your defensive spells coming along?" He decided to test this by making a gesture and sending a small dart of ice at her. She quickly made a circle with her arms, a thin violet wall appearing before her, deflecting the dart, but collapsing immediately afterwards. She let out a small cough, apparently weakened by the last spell.

"Good job... we won't worry about that too much. If we run into any enemies, you'll probably have half of them on fire before you even need to form a mana shield," he chuckled, the red-haired mage just grinned back, grabbing her nearby water skin and drinking greedily. "I came to tell you that the duke has called together a meeting... he wants everyone in attendance as soon as possible."

"All right, lead the way," Arrien replied with a short nod.

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The entire crew was congregated together on the boat, some of them in various states of intoxication, a couple of them napping against the sides of the boat. Arrien grimaced at these. They'd tried to get her to try rum a few days ago, but she'd politely declined, though she found the smell appealing... she just didn't like how it turned the men into even worse leches than they normally were.

"Attention everyone," the duke called from atop the stairs that led to the bow, "Attention, you lot of sons of fishwives!" There were a few snickers, apparently not everyone disagreed with the insult that had been flung at them, or more accurately, their mothers, "these ships will not be returning home to Kul Tiras, as I have turned my back on them, and will be considered a traitor upon return. I have no desire to return to that land, by any means, as I have received news of the war. The undead have taken much of our beloved homeland... and as far as I'm concerned, they can have it. The alliance that we so foolishly formed battles them to the north, and the more elves and dwarves and their rotting ilk perish in battle, the better off we humans are."

This brought about a small grumble from the crowd, but no one made any serious voice of protest. "However, at this time... I ask everyone who does wish to fight for their homeland to disembark my boat now... I will not stop you, it is your own choice of free will. I, however, intend to distance myself from the undead Scourge as much as possible. These ships will be heading for the South Seas in but six hours, so make your minds up quickly. We are going to find an island to ourselves and make our way there by the end of our swords, taking what we need from the inhabitants, and since no law or loyalty binds me otherwise... giving nothing back." The more drunken men in the crowd actually cheered at this part, and Falrevere grinned.

"So we'll be pirates then," Giles said grimly, glancing at the gangplank as though it was starting to become more inviting. "Well... I swore an oath to Captain Belnast, and I'll be damned if I don't stay with him."

Arrien bit her lip, considering the implications of what was happening now. By staying on this boat, she was putting her past completely behind her, not even bothering to defend her homeland. Was that truly what she wanted, she wondered. She watched as about a dozen of the crew quickly gathered up their things and departed, many of them to march to their deaths, and subsequent undeath, at the hands of the Scourge.

"Could be fun..." Arrien said softly, "after all... we won't have to answer to anyone. We'll be free."

Giles just grimaced at her, replying, "But the question is... can we live with what the new freedom means?" Arrien shrugged slightly, now starting to think about the tales of pirates she'd been so fascinated with as a girl, robbing the rich and giving to the poor, dashing men on the high seas who lived by no one's rules but their own.

"To the rest of you," Falrevere finally continued, "welcome to the Bloodsail Buccaneers!" A loud cheer sprang forth from those who remained, and Falrevere, smiling proudly, tipped his large hat and headed down below to his chambers.


	5. Chapter 5 What We Leave Behind

**Chapter 5: What We Leave Behind**

In the six hours remaining to her at Menethil, Arrien decided it was time to replace her bloodied and torn nightclothes. In the mood of realizing she was becoming a pirate, she bought herself (or, rather, Giles was generous enough to buy her...) a pair of black boots that came up just to mid thigh, as she'd often seen pirates and seamen wear, keeping a simple pair of pants tucked into them. She also got herself a loose-fitting white shirt, tying it up loosely at the front, and a deep red leather corset to wear on top of that, and a flowing crimson skirt. Upon looking at herself in the mirror provided in the mages' quarters on board the ship, she grinned, quite feeling every bit the dashing pirate.

"You do realize this isn't going to be all glamour," Giles sighed, looking out the porthole to see Menethil vanishing quickly into the distance, "we're going to be robbing lots of people and taking things that don't belong to us. There will be plenty of killing and unpleasantries."

"Robbing from the rich and giving to us? I can handle that!" She was positively glowing.

"But haven't you forgotten one thing?" Giles slumped into his cot, "Falrevere is already rich..."

"He lost his estate by abandoning Kul Tiras to the Scourge, surely you realize that," Arrien finally started pouting, "...spoilsport," she muttered, plopping down onto her own cot. She closed her eyes and sighed, "Giles... I'm just trying to forget what I've left behind. It's been rather easy to get swept up in this piracy thing."

"Maybe you shouldn't forget," he said softly, "those we leave behind tend to be what drives us... my brother is working hard with the priests of the Holy Light to figure out a cure for the plague... or at least a way to halt its advancement."

Arrien's lower lip twitched a bit as she fought back tears, forcing herself to not think of her father as she last saw him, but rather think of him and her mother the way they'd been the night before when she went to bed. A sad smile formed over her lips as tears started to run down her cheeks. Giles moved close to her and hugged her tightly.

"They're what inspire us to do great things."

"If you're so against piracy, why did you bother staying on with the rest of the crew," Arrien asked, looking up at him, wiping her eyes.

"I don't know... I guess I was afraid of doing anything else. Plus, I told you I'd take care of you, so I will," he smiled, patting Arrien on the head.

"In the past few days you've become like the older brother I never had," the red-haired mage replied, smiling a bit, "of course, that would explain why you're such a stick-in-the-mud most of the time."

He laughed, pushing her away and standing, tugging on his robes in front of the mirror, "So, what do you think, should I grow some sort of swashbuckling facial hair? A well-waxed, curly moustache to stroke in the heat of battle while making piratey quips?" She just looked up at him with a queer look on her face.

"I think the heat is starting to get to you, Giles... or perhaps cabin fever," she laughed.

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Two weeks had past since they had left Menethil, and Arrien had become accepted by most the entire crew. She had already past her sixteenth birthday, which went unnoticed by all but her fellow mages. Her new clothes, particularly her corset, which caused her already curvaceous form to take on new levels of delight to look upon, had made her a number of new friends, most of which she had never wanted to begin with, but their pathetic advances were enough to make her laugh and gave her something to talk about with her real friends. At this moment she was standing on the poop deck, leaning against a warblade, watching the weapon master preparing one of his own. She'd been training in swordfighting for the past week, after having finally been accepted as the "one of them."

"All right... you're going to need to learn how to parry a bit better... it'll get you in a better position for a counter-strike," the scarred man before said in a gruff voice, "ready youself!" She stepped back, holding her curved blade up to prepare for a strike. Weaponmaster Tellanus lunged forward, and she deftly deflected his strike, following up with a strike of her own, which he blocked in turn. He brought his blade back around to strike at her, but Arrien made a quick circular motion with one of her hands and she was enveloped in a steady purple bubble. Tellanus's blade glanced off to the side, causing him to be off-footing, and Arrien spun about and behind the weaponsmaster and jabbed her sword in between his shoulderblades, laughing.

"Bah! Magic users," he sneered. Arrien heard applause behind her and turned with a grin, which quickly fatered when she realized it was not any of her friends behind her, but Duke Falrevere himself. The swordsman turned about as well, offering a quick bow.

"Well done, Arrien," Falrevere said with a smile, "not many magic-users would so reduce themselves to using melee weapons in combat. Nor would many noble swordsman emply magic to such extremes in their fighting. Do you know what that makes you?

"A cheater?" Tellanus offered, rubbing at a scar on his face that ran from his left temple to the bridge of his nose. Arrien's face flushed.

"Well, yes... but it also makes you adaptive," the Duke stepped towards the girl, "you don't follow the rules, as it were."

"Well, isn't that what piracy is all about anyway?" The mage retorted with a wide grin.

Falrevere nodded with a chuckle, "So it is... I'll be keeping an eye on you in the future," he said, reinforcing the statement by tapping below one of his eyes with a finger and pointing at the girl. He then proceeded to turn on his heel and continue walking the other way, towards the bow.

"I'd not necessarily consider that a good thing, lass," Tellanus chuckled softly, "having the attention of your higher ups seldom is." Arrien grimaced a bit, realizing just how true it was.


	6. Chapter 6 On Rum

**Chapter 6: On Rum (Or Why a Pyromancer Should Never Drink)**

"Come on, Arrien, just a sip!" one of the crewmen cried out in the background, "prove to us that not all of you mages are teatotallers!" Arrien was sitting in the ill-lit mess hall, and everyone, having finished their meals, had decided it was time to induct the young mage into their brotherhood. She'd proven herself as a swordswoman, not exactly matching the skill of them, but being innovative enough with the use of her magic in her duels to earn respect, and in some cases, fear. There were a good number around the table tonight who bore a scar or two from Arrien's past month of sword training. She was nearly unrecognizable now as the frail girl who had been heaving on the deck nearly two months ago. Her skin was a small shade darker, though her freckles had become far more pronounced from the sun, and she kept her curls, which now extended to her lower back when wet, in a loose bun so as not to obscure her vision (or potentially catch on fire) in combat.

She stared at the mug before her, then back up at the dozen or so cheering men. Arrien was sure that more than a few of the leches were hoping her sense of judgement would vanish with drink. She, of course, wasn't entirely certain that wasn't true, but at the moment, the temptation that was rum won. She downed the mug in its entirety, tears welling in her eyes as it slid quickly down her throat. The mage finished it off and slammed the mug back down on the table, coughing a bit.

"Well... that was powerful," she said, wiping tears away from her eyes as the burning sensation filled her. However, she noted, the flavor that came across after the burning ceased was very pleasant. She smile, banging the mug on the table, "More!" The table erupted into cheers.

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"So... you see..." Arrien gesticulated wildly with each word, two hours worth of drink working at her system, "the... the fabric of the universe... gets... gets allllll... twisted-like... and..." She blinked, noting that the very blurry man in front of her was snoring. She proceeded to check his mug to see if he had any remaining rum, which, much to her disappointment, he did not. She felt someone's hand on her shoulder and she leapt to her feet, a rather lazy looking fireball appearing forth and hovering over her palm, "Touch me again.. and we'll just see how hot your pants get," she giggled, swaying from side to side to keep balance.

"Aw, c'mon, girlie... just a li'l kiss," the man was obviously more drunk than Arrien. She started giggling again, using her free hand to stroke at the man's scraggly beard. A bit of her senses came back to her, just enough to see that this was not one of the particularly more attractive, or charming, crewmen.

"Well... as you can see," she murmured, leaning in close, "that is.. as I can see..." she giggled again, the man making what passed for a seductive look back at her, "you are remarkably hot for me... one might even say... on fire." At this comment, he looked down and noticed that, indeed, his pants were quite ablaze. Arrien pushed him away, cackling madly as he went rushing off, the sound, much to her satisfaction, ending in him plummeting into the drink. She staggered her way out onto the deck, her hair quite disheveled. She made her way over to the mages' cabin and flung the door open, awakening everyone inside. The red-haired mage was largely ignored by all but Giles, who apparently had been waiting up for her.

"What happened to you?" He asked, rushing over to help her walk to her bed.

"Rum," she giggled, "but... but don't worry about me... worry about Ol' Killan... he took a little jump into the drink," she laughed uproariously, causing the other two mages to bury their heads under their pillows. Arrien motioned for Giles to come closer, the look on her face saying that she had something absolutely scandalous to tell him, "I set his pants on fire," she grinned, falling back onto the cot.

"Literally?" Giles allowed himself a guilty grin. Killan had been trying to get Arrien's attention, for the most impure of reasons, Giles was certain, and was quite amused that his red-haired compatriot had finally given the old pervert his come-uppance.

"Flame on," Arrien murmured, causing a burst of fire to appear over her head, "flame off," it vanished again and she clapped like a child who had just been given the most entertaining toy, "Wait, wait... Giles... watch this. I've been working some of Eleanor's, the great bore," her voice elevated, directed at the arcanist, who was trying desperately to sleep, "prestidigitation and illusion tricks into my fire magic... watchwatchwatch!" She hopped up on bed and held out her hand, a small orb of fire appearing above it, wavering slightly, mostly due to Arrien's inability to fully concentrate. The fire slowly turned itself into a vaguely humanoid shape and began to dance about on Arrien's palm. She blew on it, and it vanished.

"That's very impressive," Giles stated, stroking his chin, "not particularly practical, but impressive."

"Oh, does everything have to be practical? I just want to have fun sometimes! All you blasted mages except Selessa... oh, even her... freedom to you means more time to study books and scrolls!" She collapsed back into bed again, "Mmmmm... I want to have fun."

"Magic isn't a toy," Giles scolded.

"Nooo... but the fire I make with it can be. I have no illusions that I can just do my whim with my magic, but just let me have this without scolding me." Giles just shook his head at Arrien, ruffling her hair.

"Try to get some rest... your brain will be screaming at you in the morning."


	7. Chapter 7 The Vile Fins

**Chapter 7: The Vile Fins**

The alarm bell sounded like a thousand churchbells colliding inches from Arrien's ears. She let out a soft whimper as she stirred from her cot, starting to open her eyes, but quickly realizing that the room was far too bright for her to see well. Of course, what she didn't realize was that "far too bright" was simply lit by a candle.

"What time is it," she groaned, the apparent volume of her own voice causing her to wince slightly.

"Quarter past four in the morning," Giles hissed, grabbing his spell components, "apparently, we've been boarded..." Arrien struggled to her feet, grabbing her component pouch and the warblade she'd been given and headed out onto the deck. In front of her she saw about a half dozen creatures, dark purple in color, coming to about her mid-torso. They had slimy scales covering their entire bodies, bulbous eyes the same colour as the rest of their bodies, and stubby hands and legs. They looked like fish that had learned to walk upright.

"Murlocs!" One of the crewmen cried, cut short by one of the fishmen jabbing him in the stomach with a crude spear. Arrien rushed outside, blocking a spear with her warblade and thrusting at what she supposed could be considered the creatures throat. It made a horrid gurgling sound, its light green blood spilling onto the deck. The clash of weapons was too much on Arrien's poor, hungover ears, but it was either overcome that pain or encounter a whole different kind at the weapons of the Murlocs. Strange creatures, Arrien thought to herself, careful to whisper in her mind to prevent her brain from exploding. Behind her, Giles made a sweeping gesture and three of the Murlocs were frozen in place by their ankles, making them easy targets for the seamen as the fishmen struggled to move. The deck was covered in even more green bodily fluids. Arrien lunged at one Murloc who was making its way over the side of the deck before she realized that three more were following right behind him. She glanced behind her for back-up, and noted that everyone else was quite occupied with their own enemies.

"Rawrgrlrgrlgrl!" One of her opponents cried, brandishing its rough hewn sword at her. The others began closing in on her. She took a swipe at one with her warblade, but it easily deflected the strike, the metallic clank ringing harshly in Arrien's ears. Another strike, another parry.

"Oh, to the Nether with this," the young mage snarled, throwing her weapon to the deck and taking a deep breath, putting her arms out to either side and uttering a few quick words of power, bringing them together quickly, a veritable storm of fire flew from her hands, turning the murlocs before her into not much more than a few mean scraps of burnt flesh and bone. She grumbled, feeling a bit weakened, but refused to be deterred, she shook her head a bit, trying to recover from her hangover and leapt up the stairs towards the poop deck, perching herself on the railing and conjuring up three balls of fire, which hovered in a juggling pattern over her hand. The first thing she saw was Giles, cornered by one of the fishmen, and this was where the first fireball found its target, jetting forth and sizzling through the flesh of the murloc, a mighty roar issuing forth from its throat before it slumped to the deck.

She turned around, seeing Duke Falrevere engaged in combat with several of them and let loose the other two fireballs, quickly decreasing Falrevere's opponents from five to three. The others were distracted by this sudden turn of the tide, and the Duke made quick work of the rest. Arrien hopped off the railing, grinning and gave a quick bow to her leader, turning quickly, ready to summon more fire when she realized that the murlocs had already been taken care of. She grimaced, disappointed that the fight was already over. By her quick tally, the accuracy of which was probably quite heavily affected by her throbbing headache, there appeared to be two dozen murlocs lying dead on the ship, and two or three of her crewmates dead, at least a half dozen others injured.

"Good work there, mage," Falrevere said, clapping her on the back, "any indication of where they came from?" He called up to the crow's nest.

"East of here," was the reply from up above, "from what I can see looks like there's a little group of crude huts... most of the populace was probably involved in this little ill-conceived raid."

"Take us in," Falrevere said, "who knows what they might have managed to nab from other ships that we might find... useful."

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The landing party killed off the last few remaining murlocs in the village with very little effort. What Arrien found a bit odd was that there didn't seem to be any young among this tribe, of course, this could just be a small hunting village and their young and sickly could live elsewhere. She realized, quickly enough, that this hardly mattered any which way, and continued poking around in the camp, finding what appeared to be where the cook had set up his shop, with a small pit for a fire and a number of decent-sized fish, still quite fresh, hanging up. There were a variety of herbs lined up on a table nearby, and the remnants of an animal Arrien couldn't identify, though these looked quite rancid and had a small colony of flies buzzing around it. As she browsed the various herbs, trying to remember what she'd learned of her potionmaking from Selessa, she heard a soft mewling noise come from under the table. She bent down and saw a small, tan cat with black ears peering back at her, its blue eyes shining in the just-risen sun.

"C'mere, kitty," she said softly, "what's your name?" She smiled, clicking her tongue lightly, then remembering the strange language of the murlocs, decided to try mimicking their calls, "Murgle?" She said, and the cat quirked its head to the side, slowly pawing its way out, nuzzling its head against Arrien's hand. She picked up the small purring form and smiled, "You're a sweet little boy," she said, rubbing her freckled nose against the cat's muzzle, "is Murgle your name, sweetie? Well... if it wasn't it is now. The question is, were you meant as a pet, or were you an ingredient?" She giggled softly, although she found the thought a bit grim. Murgle climbed his way up and settled comfortably around Arrien's neck as she finished gathering up what was usable from the kitchen. She met once again with the scavanging group, who reported only having found a few shiny baubles, but nothing of any great consequence. The Duke smirked at Arrien when she came back aboard with her newfound friend.

"Well, looks like you're a popular one there, lass," he chuckled, "just keep him out of the way of the cannon fire once we start the real raids." He took his large hat off and scratched at his head, "I'm certain we'll start finding some prey around here soon enough."

"Pirates in these waters, sir?"

"Well, we're here, aren't we?" He chuckled, "and with this fleet, as small as it may be behind us, no goblin cruiser is going to stand a chance," a dark light came up in the Duke's eyes that made Arrien rather uncomfortable, "and certainly there'll be a civilian transport that might have someone important enough to have some gold... maybe the family of a regional lord or somesuch on a pleasure cruise. You never know what sorts of treasure they might have, even the young ones."

Arrien smiled emptily, nodding and politely excusing herself to her chambers, lightly scratching under Murgle's chin, her headache starting to come back. Sure, robbing the rich and undeserving made sense to her... it even seemed a bit fun and daring. But the Duke was talking about robbing civilians and their families, even children weren't off limits. She sighed, looking in the mirror. What had she gotten herself into... and more importantly, how could she get out?


	8. Chapter 8 On the Evils of Piracy

**Chapter 8: On the Evils (and Joys) of Piracy**

"Well, what did you expect? Seriously?" Giles sighed, leaning back on his cot as he talked to Arrien, who was curled up in a tight ball on hers, Murgle the cat laying near her side, rubbing up against her side and purring furiously for attention.

"I don't know," she pouted like she had just been scolded, "I guess I was just thinking about the stories of all the rogue pirates, wild and free on the open seas, doing as they pleased." She rubbed at the bridge of her nose, reaching down to rub Murgle behind her ears. The cat arched up happily at this and nuzzled quite happily against her hand.

"Yeah, and what they please tends to be taking whatever shiny things catch their eye," Giles sneered, "I've been a mage at see long enough to see what pirates do... rape, pillage, ransack... I hate to see what happens when the ships separate and don't have the Duke watching them at all times. He's not exactly the model of a wonderful human being, but he doesn't have the stomach to watch people do some of the things I've seen."

"But the Captain gave me a home... I can't just turn my back on them," she said weakly.

"And you and I both know that with the exception of the stealing from those who don't 'deserve' to have things stolen from them, you are all for most of the pirating life," Giles smirked.

"There is a certain element of fun in a lot of what we do... the adventure," Arrien giggled softly.

"To tell you the truth, Arrien, I was always more of the mage you always talking about being so boring," he rubbed at his neck and closed his eyes, "I always just wanted to study... still do, really. There's so much to learn."

"But what's the use of learning all the spells and hearing the legends without really seeing it all?" Arrien protested, "I have a gift... and I want to use it. I like setting things on fire," she giggled.

"That reminds me... the captain said that whenever we do get some coin, your share is going to burn repairs on the deck," Giles laughed, "apparently, whatever you did to those murlocs did a number on the wooden planks that make up the ship... flammable wood, imagine that."

"Indeed!" She grinned impishly, "did he seem too upset?"

"I think he's just glad that you were on our side, otherwise the ship would probably have been burned down to its frame."

"I'm a pyromancer, what can I say? I enjoy my art..."

"It's more like a mania with you sometimes, I think... I've seen the gleam you get in your eyes when you wield flame, you become a madwoman."

Arrien rubbed at her freckles, blushing furiously, "Well... maybe I give into my ability just a little bit sometimes..."

"You're very talented, don't get me wrong, but just be careful... someday it could land you in trouble."

"I can handle trouble," she smiled sweetly.

"We'll just have to hope you're not hungover next time it comes," Giles laughed just as Arrien hurled her pillow at his head.


	9. Chapter 9 Tilanne Shadowstorm

**Chapter 9: Tilanne Shadowstorm**

Arrien paced the deck of the _Devil Shark,_ as Falrevere had taken to calling the ship, idly, watching the waves go by. It was now well into the second month of their voyage, and still very little activity besides occasional stops to hunt along the shores for food and sources of fresh water. She was quite honestly growing rather bored, as were much of the crew. Their supplies of rum were now reduced to almost nothing, some of the men having taken to fermenting their own concoctions from the tropical plants they encountered on their expeditions. Surprisingly, only about a dozen men in the fleet died from poisoning that resulted from either fruit that ended up spoiled, or fruit that was poisonous.

The week before, Arrien had attempted to contact Selessa through scrying, hoping that her former mentor was alive and well, but, alas, she had no such luck. News of the war was impossible to come by, as the ship hadn't found any other sentient beings to discuss such things with (and, of course, if said beings _were _found, it's unlikely they'd have time to actually give a report before they were robbed and slain). The young mage leaned against the rail of the ship and gave a heavy sigh, her eyes scanning the miles of water before her. As she looked, she spotted a dark shape floating about a hundred or so yards away, a mere silhouette in the water, tinted pink in reflection of the setting sun.

"Hey! You, up there! In the crow's nest!" Arrien shouted at the top of her lungs, something she'd become quite good at in fact, no longer the shy girl who'd started out on this boat at all, "Take a look out that way, tell me what you see."

A moment later the reply came, "Looks like a body!" Arrien headed over to Captain Belnast, who was supervising his men near the wheel, and informed him of her discovery.

"Hm," he said, "could it be possible there might be some civilized folk out this way? Of course, our luck, whomever and whatever they may be, they're probably quite dead. Nonetheless... wheelman, turn us port. Let's investigate this, maybe we can learn something of value at the very least..."

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Minutes later, the body Arrien had spotted was dragged up onto the boat, and the crew looked at it with disgust. Duke Falrevere made his presence known first with an exclamation.

"It's a bleeding elf," he sneered, bending down and turning the body over on its back. Murmurs erupted through the crew, "she's purple... dark purple... what in the blazes kind of wizardry do these elves do that'd turn em that colour?"

"She's breathing," Arrien noted, moving a bit closer. Not only was the elf a deep purple, her hair was as deep blue as the midnight sky. Over the elf's shut eyes were tattoos that looked like claw marks, a deep red in contrast to the color of her skin. Her chest rose and fell slowly, as if she was in a deep sleep. Arrien noted that her clothes were simple, mostly leather, with a few scattered runes that she didn't recognize. One of the seamen gave the elf a swift kick in the ribs.

"Wake up, you rotter," he sneered. The elf's eyes snapped open at this violent action, glowing an eerie silver in the waning sunlight. She leapt to her feet swiftly. crouched as if ready to fight, looking around at the crew, who had their hands on various weapons.

"_Fandu-dath-belore?_" She hissed, "_bandu thoribas!"_ Her hand went to her back, apparently reaching for a weapon, but her face fell as she realized that she was unarmed.

"What and who the devil are you?" Falrevere sneered, "Do you speak the common tongue?"

The elf was crestfallen, she glared at the man, rubbing at her side as if she finally noticed that it was a bit sore, "That depends on who is asking, pale one," she grimaced.

"I am the one whose decision it was to haul your wretched self out of the drink, so unless you want to end up back in there with a few extra holes in you, I'd recommend answering," the Duke replied, not wanting to play games with one of the lesser species. Arrien was still quite thoroughly intrigued by the newcomer.

The elf growled, not like a humanoid imitating an animal, but like a jungle cat cornered by pursuers, "I am Tilanne Shadowstorm... I am of the Kaldorei... 'children of the stars' in your tongue. Night elves." Her voice was darkly melodic, not like the mirthful voices of the elves Arrien had grown accustomed to. "I came to be where I am because the goblin captain didn't take kindly to me stowing away on his boat."

"We're not too entirely fond of stowaways on this boat," the Duke said, stroking one of his long moustaches, "nor are many of us particularly fond of elves." Vicious grins broke out amongst the more xenophobic of the crew, and Arrien swore she could hear the unsheathing of a few daggers.

Tilanne appeared to quickly do the math in her head, trying to figure out just how outnumbered she was, and sighed, apparently resigned to her fate, "You gentlemen appear to have me at odds," she said, "if you wish, though, I can point you in the direction the goblin ship was heading. I'm sure you'll find something to do with their cargo."

Falrevere grinned broadly, "And what would you ask for in exchange, as I'm sure this is some sort of bargain for your life?"

"That's all I ask is to live... and to learn. I've never seen your kind before, and I'd like to observe," she said, tapping at her chin, "I can even be handy, if you like... I've learned quite a bit in my travels over the past," she seemed to count on her fingers quickly, "fifty or so years..."

"You're confident for someone with about twenty swords and daggers quite ready to puncture whatever vital organs you might have," Falrevere stated, "what makes you think I'm going to agree to these terms? After all, you're another mouth to feed, and, as I stated before, an elf."

"The goblins carry a cache of gold to a bank in Booty Bay," Tilanne spoke quickly now, "I heard them talking about it in the cargo hold... and they have a number of casks of rum."

"This ship is quite full, as well... should we just throw one of our crew overboard so you can have their bunk?" A few of the crew threw out suggestions of who could be tossed into the sea, and a few scuffles broke out. Blood was shed, but this was all largely ignored by the officers of the ship, and it quite amused Arrien, who finally noticed Giles, who was standing in the doorway of their cabin, arms crossed.

"She can stay in the mages' bunk," Giles piped up, "we have an empty bunk after Elanor decided to try to make it back to Dalaran on her own."

"Ah, yes," Falrevere said, glaring at Giles, "That teleportation attempt... didn't most of your scrying reveal Dalaran to be nothing more than rubble by now?" The leader of the mages remained silent. "Very well," Falrevere began again, "you may stay aboard my ship, Miss Shadowstorm... as long as this claim about the gold on the goblin ship is true." She nodded confidently, "But if you toe out of line at all... you'll be right back where you started."

"Then I really have nothing to lose, do I?" Tilanne retorted with a smirk.


	10. Chapter 10 The Gilded Lady

**Chapter 10: The **_**Gilded Lady**_

By the time the Bloodsail fleet had caught up with the Goblin merchant ship, the _Gilded Lady,_ the first rays of sunlight had begun to burst from the horizon, turning the sky a murky red color. Arrien heard a sailor mutter that blood was going to be spilled today... and quite a bit of it. Another sailor near him commented that most of it would be Goblin blood, and at this, they shared an uproarious laugh, which unnerved the young mage quite a bit. Beside her at the rail on the poop deck was Tilanne, the Night Elf casually leaning against the ship, her eyes darting around at the various crew people cautiously. Arrien studied her quite curiously, very interested in what she might learn from this stranger.

"It's not polite to stare," Tilanne said suddenly, turning to smile at Arrien, "if you have a question, just ask."

"I suppose I was just wondering why you were so keen to help the sailors when they were so crude and rough with you," the mage asked, tilting her head to the side, her eyes still studying the claw marks on the Night Elf's face.

"First off, I had no loyalty to those goblins... they did me no favors, in fact, I find the little creatures detestable in general. Not that many of your shipmates are any better," she scowled at a drunken sailor that was eyeing her in most inappropriate ways, "but I did what was necessary to survive... such is nature's way."

"I meant to ask you about the runes on your tunic," Arrien said, "I'm a practitioner of magic, yet none of them are familiar to me."

"Arcane magic, I presume?" Tilanne said the word 'arcane' as if it left a foul taste in her mouth, "my people abandoned those practices long ago. We favor the use of natural magic."

"Natural magic? I... I'm afraid I don't follow. I mean, what magic does is generally unnatural isn't it?" the red-haired mage glanced back out to the _Gilded Lady_, which was now almost in range. The Goblin ship was much smaller than theirs, and from what she could tell, far less armed and crewed. There wouldn't be much of a fight. The seamen around her were all preparing gangplanks and ropes to use to board the enemy vessel. Arrien was more than ready to fry a few of the little green men if need be, as well.

"I suppose 'magic' isn't the correct word," the Night Elf said, tapping a slender finger on her chin in thought, "I am what is called a druid... I ask things of nature that it normally wouldn't do except for one very much in tune with it. I can cause roots in the ground to grow at a much faster rate and use them to ensnare my enemy, or call down the force of the light of the moon into a concentrated, forceful beam of moonfire... summon swarms of insects to attack my foes... things of that like. Of course, much of my training was not from my own people... they can be a bit too haughty for my tastes... much of my teachings came from my time living with the Tauren druid nomads."

"Tauren?" This race, like much of what the purple elf was saying to her, was completely foreign, and as Tilanne opened her mouth to respond, a shout came from behind her. It was then that she realized they were side-by-side with the _Gilded Lady _now. Odd, tiny little green men with sharp pointed ears covered the deck of the other ship, most of them wielding shining guns of all varieties.

"Board 'em, men! Take no prisoners, but try to spare the ship herself!" Belnast was shouting from midship. Arrien turned to Tilanne, but found that the druid was gone, a large, deep purple panther stood in her place, growling ferally as it bounded to one of the gangplanks and boarded the Goblin ship, tearing one of the green skinned men to shreds before he even had an opportunity to finish loading his gun. The panther turned around and looked back at Arrien, it was then that she noted the claw marks over the cat's eyes and the intelligent silvery glow behind said orbs.

"That.. is an interesting trick," Arrien found herself remarking aloud before she let out a battle cry, leaping to balance herself on the ship's rail, wrapping one leg in a rope before starting to conjure fireballs and blast the Goblins to the Nether with them. She smiled with some satisfaction at the explosion caused by one of her flames that hit a Goblin with an exceptionally large rifle. The _Devil Shark_'s boarding party had made rather quick work of the Goblin sailors, though some of the Goblins proved to be just as good with a cutlass as they were with firearms. Arrien saw out of the corner of her eye that a Goblin was taking aim squarely at her head with his rifle and decided to try out a new trick she had recently learned from Giles. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, thinking about the location of the Goblin and when she reopened them, there was a great deal of smoke around her, and directly in front of her was a very confused looking Goblin who had just squeezed his trigger, firing at empty air. The mage lightly tapped the Goblin on the shoulder and he whirled about, trying to bring his weapon to bear. Arrien leapt back, conjuring a quick fireball and aiming it squarely at the Goblin's rifle. There was a decent-sized explosion that made Arrien nearly squeal with delight as the Goblin went flying, slamming against the wall and getting knocked unconcious with an odd grunt.

From around the corner, she saw a Goblin running for his life, screaming in an oddly shrill voice, and threw himself overboard into the sea. Moments later, a large purple panther bounded after him, sliding to a stop on the deck, slick with water mixed with Goblin blood. The panther looked up at Arrien, eyes gleaming with mischief as Tilanne the jungle cat pounced off to harass another group of shocked Goblins. The mage grinned, thoroughly enjoying a battle against something more than a bunch of savage fishmen. She turned and saw a keg of gunpowder beside her. Her eyes grew large and lit up like a child during Winter's Veil.

It should be noted here that the last thing that a small group of Goblins saw was a rolling barrel marked in bold red stencil "EXPLOSIVES - DO NOT KEEP NEAR OPEN FLAME" and a storm of fire shaped vaguely like a dragon. It should also be noted that in the following weeks after the capture of the _Gilded Lady_, the Bloodsails were forced to do extensive maintenance on the deck and hull near where the Goblins stood because of what was described as a "mage-related incident."

The battle with the _Gilded Lady _was over almost as soon as it had begun, with the victory overwhelmingly belonging to the Bloodsail Buccaneers. As much as she hated to admit it... Arrien did indeed enjoy the entire combat element of piracy, and the violence (especially of the explosive kind) came completely naturally to her. Although, in the back of her mind, Giles's voice continually scolded her and reminded her that soon enough she'd find herself facing raids that weren't against decently armed Goblins, but against helpless civilians. This problem of conscience, however, did not spoil her fun of laughing every time she passed the gaping hole left in the _Gilded Lady_, and, following the repairs, the char marks that the sailors couldn't fully clean off.


	11. Chapter 11 On Cenarius and Arcane Magic

**Chapter 11: On Cenarius and Arcane Magic**

Arrien strolled her way back over to the _Devil Shark_ on one of the many gangplanks used to board the _Gilded Lady_, the large jungle cat stalking behind her, large silvery eyes glancing at buccaneers around her with mischief. When they reached Falrevere's flagship, Tilanne shifted once again into her normal shape as the pirates simply stared. With a quick motion she bared her teeth and held her hands up like claws, growling in her normal voice at the crew, most of whom quickly scattered away, going back to their business. The night elf let out a loud laugh, her eyes sparkling mirthfully as she turned back to the mage.

"Ah, I was hoping to get a chance to show the Goblins who was boss after they tossed me into the sea. I mean, I suppose I understand their reasoning, it's not like I paid to get on," Tilanne smirked, "I suppose curiosity nearly killed the cat."

"How do you do that?" Arrien queried as they walked into the mages' quarters to find themselves alone, the rest of the magic users presumably off getting their share of the loot.

"What? Change shape? It is a gift granted to me by Cenarius," she stopped at that name as if it explained everything, though the continued look of confusion in the young mage's freckled face showed that she needed to go on, "Cenarius is a demigod who granted some of my people a fraction of his powers. He is who I pray to every night to replenish my abilities for the next day."

"Interesting," Arrien murmured, tapping idly at the bridge of her nose in thought, "I've only seen mages turn other people into animals... and then it's things like sheep and frogs to make them harmless and lessen the number of attackers."

"Sheep?" Tilanne laughed at the idea, "Yes, well... anyway, as I was saying, I'm out here to explore the world. My parents wanted me to become a Priestess of Elune, but I always felt the path of Cenarius was more my calling. I struck out on my own when I was seventy and met a group of Tauren who lived the druidic life according to Cenarius's teachings."

"Who are the Tauren?" the mage asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Another race who, like the Night Elves, deeply revere the earth and all that lives on it. Our peoples have been enemies for ages, although I could never understand why. Our outlooks on many things are very similar," the druid now grimaced, "of course, my people are deeply untrusting of outsiders... and arcane magic. It had been our downfall in days past."

"Downfall?" Arrien frowned, "I can't see how it could be such a bad thing to wield the forces of magic..."

"There are many kinds of arcane magic, and much of it is demon-borne. Perhaps your people are more resilient to the allure of the arcane, but mine..." she let out a deep sigh, "my people were not so strong... in fact, when the practice of arcane magic was banned, a good number of our people left our shores to find new homes."

"There are those among my people who abuse their magic as well, always seeking something more powerful than what they can already wield through dark pacts and sacrifice," Arrien said grimly, brushing back a few escaped locks of her hair, "warlocks and necromancers." She felt a sharp shiver shoot up her spine at the last word, thinking about those in Lordaeron who had been brought back from the dead.

"I've been training in the ways of Cenarius for the past ninety years," Tilanne continued, "many of the Night Elf druids are presently in a deep sleep, learning from Cenarius himself in the Emerald Dream... and that is something I cannot explain in full detail, as I am only recently learning to walk in the Emerald Dream without losing myself."

"The Tauren didn't train you in that?"

"Well, they began to... but my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to continue exploring the world. I fully intend to return home soon, but... twenty years ago I began to get restless and impatient. I've seen all of Kalimdor and decided it was time to explore the lands to the east that I'd only heard about through Goblin merchant sailors... so I stowed away on one of their boats." Tilanne grinned sheepishly, "they didn't take it so kindly when they discovered me."

The door was then flung open and Giles's form appeared on the other side, looking battle-weary and tired, but carrying two large sacks and an intricately carved wooden staff, "Well, Arrien," he said grimly, "it seems that you and I are the only spell-casters left on this particular boat," with this he tossed one of the sacks to the red-tressed mage, "Edwin didn't make it past the first barrage of Goblin fire." Arrien frowned a bit at this, though she couldn't bring herself to be particularly sad. Edwin had always been a bit cold, even for a cryomancer, she thought to herself amusedly. "That's your share of the loot, though... if we ever make port, it'll buy you a good deal of shiny things." He laughed. "And this, Miss Tilanne, I believe is yours, judging by the designs," he tossed the druid the staff, which she caught with a large grin.

"Thank you, Shan'do Giles," she said, "I thought I'd never see it again." She ran her fingers lovingly over the carvings of a variety of animals, of which Arrien recognized a raven, a bear, and a jungle cat much like the one Tilanne had transformed herself into. "It's the various animals of the druid totemic system," the druid explained, "most druids dedicate themselves to one totem animal... I've pursued the path of balance and can assume all the forms with equal skill, but mastering none of them. Again, curiosity I suppose," she let out a soft laugh.

"We've reached the area that Falrevere's been looking for," Giles said, changing the subject at hand, "I expect we'll be making landfall soon and setting up a permanent base camp. I'd suggest getting plenty of rest... once we find an island to inhabit, there'll be much work beginning construction of a fortress."

A pirate keep, Arrien thought with a smile, how exciting... a secret base of operation to send out raiding parties to gather whatever they might need, never needing to pay for anything unless there was absolutely no other way to obtain it. Her smile spread to a grin, though she noted that Giles looked grim as ever, and Tilanne looked relatively indifferent. The young mage sighed, leaning back on her cot. She'd made a new friend today, gotten a chance to finally use her abilities in a real swashbuckling battle, and now she'd be aiding in the construction of a secret hideaway. It was almost enough to keep buried the feeling of dread building in her gut that something was going to go wrong, and soon.


	12. Chapter 12 The Ruins of Sul'Kar Fortress

**Chapter 12: The Ruins of Sul'Kar Fortress**

Arrien spent the the next three days mainly in her bunk, having lengthy conversations about magic and Tilanne's travel with the Night Elf. The mage was determined that at some point in the future, she would be making trips to the sacred Moonglade of the Cenarion Druids and to see the World Tree at Mount Hyjal. She'd never been particularly far from her village when she was much younger, and now that she'd gotten away from that, she'd seen very little but open water. The sea was wonderful, she often thought to herself, but there are so many wonders to see on the land, as well. Her wish came true on the third day, when a cry of "Land ho!" sounded from the crow's nest. A large, lush tropical island had come into view and Falrevere immediately ordered his ships to sail for it, claiming that this would be their new base of operations. Several dinghies were sent out with scouting crews, about two dozen people to explore the island in total. The leader of the expedition was Jessi Falrevere, the Duke's daughter, who was not much older than Arrien, but much more weathered by her years than the mage. Jessi's hair was a sandy blonde color, her skin darkened by the sun. She was shorter than the average human woman, and built thicker. If Arrien hadn't already known about Falrevere's prejudices, she might have thought Jessi was part dwarf.

As the sun set, the boats reached land. Jessi leapt out of her dinghy and took a deep breath and sneered, spitting in the sand.

"Bloody tropical air... feel like I'm going to drown in it, so humid..." She smirked at her men, "Well, let's get moving, you bilge rats... father wants a report on the island before tomorrow night, so we should get moving. You all right there, Freckles?" Arrien looked up, realizing she was being addressed.

"Oh, yeah... I'm fine. Just a bit tired," she murmured.

"Well, no time for that... here, take a drink," Jessi tossed the mage a flask. Arrien sniffed at the top and recognized the familiar scent of rum and took a good draw before handing it back to Jessi, her throat aflame.

"Thanks," she gasped out slightly.

"Bah, can't handle a little drink, can ya?" The group of sailors started to head for the thick grove of trees before them, Jessi and Arrien bringing up the rear.

"I'm still getting used to the burning sensation, I can hold it down pretty well, though," the mage lied with a smile.

"Sometimes I think the only way you can win the men's respect is by being able to drink them under the table," the blonde woman laughed, "and that I do, nightly." Arrien mentally noted that this must be why Jessi's clothes smelled so strongly of alcohol.

The red tressed mage glanced about quietly, taking in her surroundings. There were all sorts of plants that she couldn't name to save her life, a number of them producing flowers as large as her hand in a variety of different colours. She heard something move past quickly in the underbrush and glanced down to investigate, seeing a bright blue snake looking up at her curiously, its tongue flicking out to smell the air before slithering off again. She glanced up again to see the front of the group hacking away at a bunch of viny overgrowth. They let out a collective gasp when the way was clear, and the couple dozen men, and women, filed out into a clearing. In the center was a large structure, somewhat like a fort, although the architecture was foreign to Arrien.

"Trolls," Jessi murmured, "there are a lot of the brutes out this way... some say they had an ancient civilization that spanned much of Stranglethorn Vale and the South Seas. This fortress is probably part of that... and might serve our needs just fine," she grinned proudly, obviously looking forward to gaining favor with her father for the find. "Let's take a look, shall we, lads?" A few of the men looked at each other skeptically as they continued pressing on, looking for an entrance to the structure, which appeared even more massive when they finally got to the front doors, which were flung wide open, though, Arrien noted, if they'd been shut, they would have held off invaders for quite some time. The inside of the fort was dank and dark, smelling strongly of decay. Arrien touched her hand to the lead man's sword, muttering a word of power, and the sword began glowing brightly enough to reach every corner of the large room they were in. This appeared to be some sort of apothecary, or a mad witch doctor's lair, judging by the number of jars on the shelves filled with various liquids. Arrien shivered slightly when she saw that a number of the jars had severed body parts in them, from fingers to eyeballs.

As they pressed deeper in, they found more empty rooms, very little really of note to the pirates, though Arrien was fascinated by the detailed tribal paintings on the wall, depicting troll warriors locked in fierce combat, and the unfortunate defeated, who apparently became that evening's meal. In fact, she swore that some of the cruder etchings on the wall were, in fact, recipes. The mage stayed back in the largest of these rooms, continuing to study the etchings by light of a small fireball hovering above her palm. She could hear the others' voices echo through the structure, discussing how some of the battlements would need to be modified to fit cannons, but that they were workable. In one of the lulls of conversation, she heard footsteps coming from the entrance. She quickly put out the fireball, crouching low against the wall beside the doorway to the room. Two tall, lanky figures entered, sniffing at the air and glancing about. Trolls.

"_Zin kala kookor, si ta?"_ One of the figures asked the other.

"_Kil tat zoon mi lar,_" was his companions reply. Arrien could hear her companions coming back towards the room, and made a split second decision that something had to be done before they were ambushed and made a main course, like the victims shown in the pictures on the walls. The mage leapt to her feet and conjured a fire ball, flinging it at the nearest troll, who let out a shriek as his head was engulfed in flame and he fell to the ground. The other dark figure whirled about on Arrien, swinging his axe wildly at her head, letting out a series of what sounded like very ugly curses in his native language. Before the mage could even prepare another spell, the troll's head was on the floor, its body standing in the same place for a moment before dropping as well. Jessi Falrevere revealed to be standing behind him, sword gripped tightly in her hand.

"Told you the brutes were all over the place out this way," the blonde woman sneered, her features looking far more fierce by the dim light generated by the other sailor's sword. "They must have a camp nearby... I'm sure we can take them out by surprise, especially providing the cover of darkness. Time to put our tracking skills to use," Jessi smirked, taking a swig of rum. Arrien looked down at the troll corpses and sighed, very much wishing that Tilanne was there with her, as she would have felt much more comfortable against such foes with a large jungle cat by her side.


	13. Chapter 13 Staking a Claim

**Chapter 12: Staking a Claim**

After several hours of following tracks through the jungle, the party of pirates found themselves sitting at the treeline, observing a small village of trolls. There were very few trolls out and about at this time of night, many of them having headed into their crude mud huts for a night's rest. Arrien could see Jessi's fingers tightening around her sword as she clenched her jaw in thought.

"There's no saying that this is the only troll village on the island," Jessi whispered, "but we're going to have to take them out if we're going to even begin taking over here."

"But there are women and children in the camp," Arrien hissed in protest, then felt angry eyes digging into her back.

"And they'd serve you as a main course the first chance they'd get, Freckles," Jessi said, coldly, "we need to get rid of 'em now... and you're going to help." The young mage looked at the village in front of her and swallowed hard, hoping that most of its populace were warriors and hunters who would have, as Jessi said, butchered the lot of them just as soon as they'd say hello.

"They don't even suspect anything," a man next to Arrien said, a dark grin on his bearded face, "we'll take them completely by--- hhrrrk---" his sentence dissolved into a series of gurgles and choking sounds as he dropped to the grass, a crude axe buried firmly in the back of his skull. A jungle troll seemed to appear out of no where, followed by two more, letting out a fierce war cry.

The pirates whirled about, Arrien getting off a fireball that narrowly missed one of the trolls, her aim thrown off by another pirate jostling her arm in an attempt to load his gun. She could heard an alarm gong being sounded in the village, and a clamor starting up in the strange language of the trolls. As soon as the initial ambushers had been taken care of, one of them skewered on Jessi's cutlass, the other with a large hole in its face left behind by a blunderbuss, the pirates fell upon the village. At least six trolls fell before they were even able to get to their weapons as Jessi and her men opened fire. Combat was joined, the sound of the rough stone and wood weapons of the trolls clashing against the steel of the Bloodsails echoed through the night air. Arrien remained near the edge of the battle, her warblade drawn, but mainly casting a variety of spells to harass the trolls. She ducked behind one of the mud huts to catch a breath for a moment and heard a small cry from behind her.

"_Nun! Kul'kar nun tyl nat!_" Arrien spun around, her warblade ready, and saw a tiny form standing in front of her. A young troll was curled in a fetal position on the ground, covering his large ears, trembling from head to toe. The mohawk of bright red hair that sprouted from his head matched the tribal tattoos on his face, and Arrien quietly wondered to herself how young the trolls received those markings. He looked up at the mage with large, fearful eyes. She crouched down next to him and softly shushed him, jumping a bit as she heard an explosion coming from the inside of the hut she was hiding behind.

"It'll be okay, little one," she whispered, rummaging through her spell components pouch to find what she needed. Her hand produced a small bit of gum arabic and an eyelash. She pressed the two items together and muttered a few words of power, touching the young troll's arm as she did so. The troll looked up at her, confused. "You need to run," she hissed, mimicking the motion of running with her fingers and pointing towards the coast, "run as fast as you can, do you understand me?" The troll looked down at his arm where the mage had touched it and looked in shock to see that it was no longer there apparently. He reached with his other hand to touch it and confirm that it was, indeed, still there.

"RUN!" Arrien shouted, jumping to her feet and pulling the troll up with her. She gave him a firm push and he started off towards the treeline, soon vanishing so that only his footprints remained behind in the sand.

The mage leapt out from behind the building again, only to find herself facing a very angry looking troll, his battle axe about to come down upon her skull. She lunged forward with her warblade, catching the troll in the chest. He groaned and fell to the ground, clutching at his wound, which Arrien saw was quickly starting to heal up. The troll now looked much, much angrier and before Arrien realized what was happening, it lunged at her from the ground, his eyes glowing a murderous red. The mage steeled herself, shouting out a spell and stretching her arms forth, beams of light springing from them and encompassing the troll, who began to shrink rapidly and grow more fuzzy. Half a second later, a sheep crashed to the ground before Arrien, who looked down at him with a satisfied smirk.

"Baa?" Was the only thing the troll managed to say before he was transformed once again: this time, into well-done mutton. Arrien stepped over the corpse of her wooly foe and looked at the village, the majority of which was now on fire, the streets littered with bodies of troll men and women, and, although Arrien averted her eyes and tried to tell herself differently, a few child-sized corpses were strewn about, as well, butchered the same as the other trolls.

"That's the last of 'em!" One of the pirates confirmed gleefully. A few of the men sheathed their blades, looking a bit disappointed that there was no one left to kill.

"Good job, boys," Jessi said with a cheering whoop following it, "not too bad there, either, Freckles," she chuckled at Arrien's victim, still a smoldering sheep in appearance. Jessi reached into her pack and produced a folded up piece of cloth and grabbed a spear from one of the dead trolls, sticking it firmly in the ground. Arrien moved closer to the group, feeling a bit of a chill in her spine despite the plentiful fire. The blonde pirate worked quickly, tying the cloth to the spear, where it fluttered in the gentle wind, unfurling to reveal a black twin-masted ship set against a blood red sun setting on a black sea, "I claim this island in the name of my father, Duke Falrevere, and for the Bloodsail Buccaneers... lads... welcome to Plunder Isle!" A series of bloodthirsty cheers erupted into the night. Arrien glanced back at the small footprints in the sand and prayed quietly that the troll had made it somewhere safe. She looked back down at the corpses of the trolls, and the relatively few corpses of the pirates who had fallen in the battle and sighed to herself, for the first time, simply wishing to be back home in bed.


	14. Chapter 14 The Tightrope

**Chapter 14: The Tightrope**

Arrien sat on her bunk, looking rather detached. Murgle was sprawled across her lap, purring contently, and Tilanne was busy scribbling something down on a piece of parchment. Giles had already turned in for his night's rest, although it was not even midnight yet. A day had passed since the encounter on what was now on Plunder Isle, and Duke Falrevere was quite pleased with his daughter discovering what would soon become Bloodsail Hold. Tilanne had remarked on the pirates' remarkable creativity in naming their base.

"Are you all right, Arrien?" Tilanne asked, not looking up from her parchment as she scratched at her chin in thought. "You haven't really been very talkative since you got back from the island."

"Just... thinking, is all," she murmured, "I didn't want to believe Giles, but on that island, they really did slaughter every man, woman, and child in the village. I watched them do it... and what's worse, I helped them."

At this, Tilanne placed the pen down on the desk and looked at Arrien, a very disturbed look in her eyes, "What do you mean by 'helped'?"

"I killed trolls... and I had fun doing it, too..." the mage trailed off, a bit of a sparkle in her eye as she reminisced about the troll-sheep that was still lying dead on the island.

"The children? Did you..." the elf's eyes grew wide, terrified of what Arrien's answer would be.

"No! Nonono... in fact..." Arrien glanced around as if checking for someone concealed in the shadows then crossed the room to Tilanne, whispering in the woman's pointed ear, "I helped one of the children escape..."

Tilanne nodded and smiled warmly in approval, "That's what I would have expected for you. You're not like them, Arrien. You have a heart, you have mercy... but that doesn't mean you don't also enjoy adventure and combat. Do you think I didn't have any fun on that goblin ship?

"Well, you looked like you did," Arrien let out a soft chuckle, "but these trolls never wronged me... or anyone, as far as I'm aware. The goblins were ruthless."

"They're not as bad of a group of people as most try to let on, but you're right... those ones were right little buggers." Tilanne laughed, brushing her long blue hair off to the side. "I plan on sticking around on this ship for a while, though... despite some moral problems with the majority of the crew."

"But why?" Arrien asked, her head tilting to the side a bit.

"Because everything happens for a reason... I don't believe in destiny and that our entire lives are doomed to go one way or another," Tilanne let out a sharp sigh, "however, I believe that events happen in life, good and bad, open doorways that may not be readily apparent."

"It seems like my life is steadily set on a rail of late," Arrien grimaced, "I'm stuck on this boat, stuck with people of very questionable morals."

"What are morals, anyway?" Tilanne asked, "Not to say that they aren't without merit... but they're rather objective. Sure, most people will agree that simply killing someone in cold blood or for revenge is evil... not everyone, but most. But what if you have a righteous cause for killing someone?"

"Well, if you have a righteous cause, then... it's okay, right?"

"But what's righteous? Is it okay to kill an evil duke's guards to get to a treasure and distribute it to the poorer masses?" The night elf smiled a bit, "there's really no right or wrong answer... personally, if someone is willing to kill me for their cause, I had better be ready to kill them for mine... or, if you look at it in a different light, make them die for theirs." She chuckled.

"But should I have fun doing it? In setting people on fire and the swordplay and daring?"

"As long as the pleasure is in the adrenaline and not seeing the life drain from someone's eyes. I take pleasure in the fight, but never in killing. It seems contradictory, I know... but I think you completely understand... the destructive capabilities of your powers fascinate you, and you love watching them go through their natural courses and manipulating them in creative ways." the night elf shook her head slightly and hugged the mage, "Listen, my young friend... we shall stay with these people as long as need be. Some good will come of it eventually, whether we can see it or not. I have no loyalty to them, though, nor will I pledge such... did you ever really pledge loyalty?" The mage shook her head in a negative answer, "Then you are free, as well... we can aide them as long as it doesn't offend our moral principles. We walk a thin line, though, Arrien, between good and evil on this ship..."

"I understand that," the mage replied with a gleam in her eye, "and sometimes I think that it's that tightrope walking that makes this life that much more interesting."


	15. Interlude At Death's Doorstep

**Interlude: On Death's Doorstep**

Lester Zank stared at the blank basement wall, a grimace on his young, pale features. He idly poked his rusty fork into the jar of strawberry preserves that had been his breakfast, lunch, and dinner and let out a sigh. It had been several months since he left the court of Duke Falrevere, where he'd been doted upon like a son, and now, after having struck out to make his own in the world by joining the Cult of the Damned, he'd been trapped in this basement eating nothing but fruit preserves and a few mean scraps of dried meat he'd found. He'd never told Falrevere his intention when he left, simply gone out into the night. However, when he found himself face-to-face with the victims of the plague, the young warlock had found himself absolutely terrified and hidden himself away in the basement, listening to the sounds of war raging outside. He ran his hand over his bald scalp and set the jar of preserves aside, the rusty fork still protruding from the mass of red goop. Something interesting seemed to be taking place outside, a scuffle of some sort. He headed towards the door and pressed his ear against it tentatively.

"The will of the Lich King will prevail, you pathetic form of life," a dark voice hissed.

"You are to be judged this day, you foul servant of the dark!" Lester rolled his eyes at the argument taking place. Two overdramatic zealots bashing away at each other while their allies fell by the scores around them without making any sort of dramatic speeches, with the exception of a few gurgling noises that, in Lester's opinion, could be considered rather dramatic, if not disgusting. He heard the sounds of an incantation and the second voice roaring in pain. A moment later, he was thrown backwards from the force of something slamming into the metal door he had been leaning against. He rubbed at his offended ear angrily, scrambling to regain his footing and starting to wish he had something to defend himself with, in case either of the warring parties decided to invade his sanctuary. Looking around the room, he discovered that unless the combatants were horribly afraid of being made sticky with peach preserves, he was completely out of luck.

After a few more moments of a scuffle, a wet crunching noise could be heard through the door, followed by the sound of a body dropping to the ground.

"May you be judged justly," the voice of the victor rang clearly through the door, "you foul betrayer of the Light."

"Come on, Hector, we need to move along!" a new voice called, "I've just received news from Lordaeron. The king is dead." There were a few moments of shocked silence, followed by questioning.

"Dead? What happened?!"

"Arthas returned... cut him down before his throne, now he's cutting his way through what remains of the countryside on his way to Quel'Thalas." A curse escaped from the lips of the holier-than-thou voice, a small irony that caused Lester's lip to turn upwards in a smirk. The sound of horses rushing off could be heard a moment later, followed by nothing but the crackle of burning buildings. Lester sniffed the air, smiling as he could smell the smoke from the destruction. Demonic fire smelled so much better than natural fire, he thought to himself, wishing that he had some way to conjure some to life just for his entertainment. As this thought passed through his brain, a second one followed it quickly and he rushed to the door, cautiously lifting the bar holding it locked and cracking it open.

The sight that greeted him was horrific, dead bodies littered the ground all around him, some of them still smoldering with fire, natural and holy alike, the latter of which Lester shuddered at in disgust. Immediately before him was the freshly slain body of what appeared to be a warlock of the Cult of the Damned. Lester beamed, trying to ignore the blood gushing from the man's ruined skull as he rushed over, crouching down and searching the body. Several moments later he found his prize: two spell component pouches. He let out a giddy laugh and rushed into the basement again to sift through his find.

All sorts of foul smells wafted forth from the pouches, and Lester welcomed the aroma of each of them, all of them bringing back memories of the first time he'd used them. Then, he found exactly what he'd been looking for: a few select crystals, a piece of red chalk, and vile filled with what appeared to be human blood (not that this was a scarcity in this land at present). Through attempts at scrying, Lester had already discovered the whereabouts of the only father he'd ever known: Duke Falrevere. Now all he had to do was make the right pattern with the chalk and he could attempt to teleport to that place, a very dangerous ordeal to undertake when one wasn't intimately familiar with the area they were teleporting to, but Lester was willing to take that risk if he could get out of this dank basement and this plague-infested land. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind and bringing up the proper pattern to the forefront of his brain and began work quickly. Soon, he hoped, he'd be basking in the sun of a distant tropical island.


	16. Chapter 15 On Humanity

**Chapter 15: On Humanity**

Arrien and Tilanne rested in the shade of a palm tree, watching as the men worked on securing a cannon on the top level on the fortress, which was looking more and more intimidating every day. The walls now bristled with spikes and several smaller cannons were pointed out of the windows. By no means did it look impenetrable, but people would certainly think twice before attacking. They turned their attention elsewhere for a moment, to see Giles and a few other of the men standing around what appeared to be a blue crystalline statue of a rather ugly pirate who was missing his left leg, which Arrien noted was lying on the ground next to him.

"What is that?" She wondered aloud.

"Handsome Jim, although, if you ask me, a bit of a misnomer," Tilanne snickered, looking at the semi-toothless sneer on the glimmering pirate, "had a bad run-in with a basilisk when we were out hunting the other day. Poor fool looked straight in the beast's eyes."

"So we have more than just the fort for denfense, eh? Unpleasant creatures all around, too..."

"Oh, basilisks are only somewhat unpleasant... very territorial. And very tasty," the druid laughed, "those were basilisk steaks we ate last night."

"Tasted good... a bit tough, though."

"Ah, well, you can only do so much with the meat of a giant lizard. The boys were too impatient to let it marinade for a bit to make it more tender," Tilanne sighed, slumping down further against the palm.

"At least there hasn't been too much more killing," Arrien said, "except that little skirmish over who got the last pineapple at dinner last night... that just got ugly."

"I've never seen someone killed by a spoon before... that was a very unpleasant mess," Tilanne couldn't help but laugh, though, "you humans are a very odd bunch. Very varied... Night Elves have different personalities and such, of course... but we're not as... diverse, as you people are. I'm just glad that these," she gestured at the pirates, "aren't the only examples of humans I've seen, else I'd find them a disgusting lot... are most like them or more like you?"

"I'd like to think that there are more of the good kind than the crude, vile kind," Arrien grunted softly, "but the more I see of the world, the more I see that the lot of them are cruel and conniving, always struggling to get what they want at any cost." There was a calm silence that broke out after Arrien finished this sentence, the working men finally having gotten their cannon in place, and Giles apparently giving up on restoring Handsome Jim to his original state. He may not be good looking now, Arrien thought to herself, but at least he's nice and shiny.

The moment of peace was broken by a loud _crack_ and the smell of sulfur, green and black flames swirling up from the sand about twenty yards away from Arrien and Tilanne.

"It's the Legion! They've come to finish us off!" She heard a cry from the sailors. Her eyebrow lifted slightly at the sight, a chill crawling slowly up her arms towards her chest, making her heart feel icy cold. She recognized this... this was demonic magic. Next to her, she could see that Tilanne had bared her teeth and was emitting a soft growl, her back arched slightly. It amazed Arrien just how much like a cat Tilanne acted even when not shapeshifted, the sight gave her back the smallest amount of warmth in her heart, but that was quickly crushed when the form of a young man tumbled out of the flames, crashing face-first into the sand. A few of the men rushed over, swords drawn. Arrien and Tilanne jumped to their feet, both of them slinking over, ready for the worst. The young man was completely bald, his skin paler than the near-white sand he was starting to stir in, a soft groan emanating from his throat.

"Water..." he croaked, and Arrien felt chills shoot through her body yet again, "Falrevere... where... where's Duke Falrevere?" He coughed, obviously very weakened by the teleportation spell he had just accomplished. Tilanne's nose twitched a bit and she muttered softly.

"I smell the Nether on this one... he is tainted," she knelt and helped the man up, however against her better judgement it may have been. Arrien saw that she recoiled in disgust, but forced herself to remain in contact with him. One of the men had already brought over a skin of water and was helping the warlock get it down his throat.

"Where is Duke Falrevere?" He demanded.

"Lester?" the young man turned in response to his name, his dark eyes lighting up slightly as he ran over and bowed deeply before the Duke.

"I thought you'd gone off to investigate the Cult of the Damned, to join their ranks," the Duke stated matter-of-factly. Arrien's entire body froze. This terrible person had been one of the people who helped destroy her village? Before she realized it, she had a hand on her spell component pouch, but she felt her wrist seized immediately. She followed the hand up to see Tilanne, who just shook her head in a firm negative.

"I saw the things that they did... the horrific abominations, and realized I'd not the stomach for it," the young man, Lester, sighed, acting as if the entire ordeal was boring to him, "I decided to track you down with scrying and come join you... you've always been kind to me."

"I have... and maybe some of that dark magic I indulged you in will be useful to me... the Nether knows how useful my arcanists have been, the nastier bits you could supply could do a great deal, indeed! Maybe you could even train my current mages in your ways," Falrevere looked pointedly at Arrien, and then to Giles, who had come to stand close to her. "But, then again, they might not have the backbones to deal with demons on such an intimate level." Arrien turned to Giles, whose lip was upturned in disgust at the warlock. "Come, Lester," Falrevere said, "You must tell me of the mainland... it has been too long since I've received news."

As soon as they were out of earshot, Giles sneered, "Well, if this crew wasn't vile enough before, it certainly is now... I've met warlocks before, and not all of them are purely sinister." He sounded like he wasn't completely convinced in his own previous sentence, "but I don't see any good coming of that son of a whore being here."

Arrien turned to look at Tilanne, who had a hardened look on her face, barely an emotion emanating from her silvery eyes, the young mage opened her mouth to say something, but Tilanne turned and stalked off, sitting back under the tree without a word. Another chill shot down Arrien's back... she had a very, very bad feeling about this.


	17. Chapter 16 The Wrath of Cenarius

**Chapter 16: The Wrath of Cenarius**

In the weeks following Lester's arrival, the mood in the magic users of the Bloodsail Buccaneers changed drastically. Giles had become quite withdrawn, although Arrien had overheard an angrily whispered conversation one night before bed about Giles not wanting to see another summoning circle in the fort, with Lester reluctantly relenting. Lester was becoming more and more egotistical and condescending towards the "lesser" mages, Giles and Arrien, since they "lacked vision" and didn't have the gall required for his personal style of magic. He especially mocked Tilanne, who had shown absolutely no magical prowess at all. Duke Falrevere kept Lester on a leash, albeit a very long one, and tended to keep his eyes turned away for the most part, unless he felt that the warlock was becoming a great danger to his men in general, and not just specific individuals, then he came down on Lester harshly, reducing the dark magician to an apologetic sycophant.

Arrien was now leaning against the rail on one of Falrevere's smaller ships, breathing out a soft sigh as she watched the water rush past the boat as they patrolled the area near Plunder Isle, in search of a vessel to attack and loot. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Lester and Giles locked once again in a debate, and shook her head, returning her gaze to the water as night fell.

"You dare try to challenge me for my right as the leader of the mages under Falrevere?" Giles snapped, and at this raising of voices, Arrien turned about again to observe curiously. She saw Tilanne wordlessly watching from the other side, her silvery eyes glowing softly in the light of the crescent moon above.

"It is time that this fleet took further steps to ensure that its magic users do what is necessary to get the job done... and the job involves things that you mages do not have the guts to do," Lester snarled back, his black robes billowing in the gentle breeze. A few more crew people were now paying attention, though the captain, a snivelling coward Arrien had a distaste for, kept his distance and ignored everything. He knew who Falrevere's favorite was out of the magic users, and would only intervene if Lester was put in any real danger.

"Convening with the Burning Legion is not 'necessary' in this line of work, pup," Giles sighed, and Arrien saw his hand dip into his spell components bag.

"I do not convene with demons, you pathetic excuse for an arcanist... I control them. They do my bidding and mine alone, I control their fire," and, to display this fact, he held out his hand and a small column of green flame rose out of it, illuminating Lester's face grotesquely, gleaming in his dark eyes and making his pale features look that much more pale in contrast to the shadows the angles of his face cast.

"The demons let you play with their toys so that they can gain your trust, they do your bidding only because it suits their chaotic needs," Giles rolled his eyes, "your lust for the dark will consume you in the end."

"The only thing that will be consumed here is you," Lester growled, letting loose the demonic fire he held in his hand in a bolt at Giles, who lifted a hand, creating a barrier of purple energy which absorbed most of the flame vanishing in a crackling haze. Arrien noticed that the edge of Giles's violet robes had caught fire, but the other mage ignored this as he brought his hands together, three globes of energy springing forth, two catching Lester in the chest and the other in the shoulder, knocking him off his feet. The crew was cheering now, most of them having an intense hatred for the snivelling little brat, and glad to see him go down in combat. Giles laughed and looked around at his compatriots.

"Looks like I'm not the only one glad to see you get your come-uppance..." Giles turned around, grinning proudly at Tilanne, whose face remained completely unchanged, and Arrien gave a quick giggle and short round of applause until she saw Giles's face suddenly contort in pain. She turned to see Lester on his feet again, a deep purple stream of energy extending from his palm into Giles's back. Blood burst forth from the elder mage's nose and his eyes rolled back in his head, as everyone else in the crew simply stood, silent and frightened. The torrent of energy ended after another and Giles's body dropped to the deck in a heap. Arrien rushed forward to his side and barely even needed to check for a pulse to realize that Giles's was cold, his flesh icy cold and the life completely gone from his eyes. Tears streamed from the red-haired mage's eyes as she brought herself back to her feet, a dark look crossing her freckled features as flames burst to life in each of her hands. Lester began to laugh.

"You want it next? I can do this all day..." he sneered, a trickle of blood trailing from his mouth. Arrien felt a slender hand grip her shoulder and pull her back, then heard Tilanne softly speak.

"Let me handle this..." the night elf took a few steps forward, her silver eyes glowing much brighter than they had before. Arrien watched in silent fury as Tilanne stood between her and Lester, who laughed even louder now.

"Ah, the purple elf, who has shown absolutely no magical talent whatsoever, is going to avenge her friend... won't this be precious," he let out a high-pitched cackle, a look of complete chaotic insanity contorting his features. Tilanne took a deep breath and gazed up at the moon for a moment, a few words in a language unknown to Arrien coming from her lips, sounding to Arrien like a prayer. When she opened her eyes again, they were glowing pure white, an odd smile quirked on her lips. The wind around the ship began to kick up , a storm brewing instantly, clouds filling the sky, covering everything except the crescent moon, which shone that much more brightly now, its beams directed on Lester, who now shielded his eyes as the moon seemed to grow brighter and brighter as lightning struck all around the ship, but never directly hitting it. Suddenly, a beam of immense power shot forth from the moonlight, knocking Lester backwards into the rail, the rain pouring from the clouds now starting to turn to hail. Lester's body twitched involuntarily as wisps of silvery light, not entirely unlike fire drifted forth from his fingertips and mouth, his eyes locked on Tilanne, horrified. Arrien, still crouched over Giles's lifeless form watched in shock as the crew ran for cover, only a few stragglers stood staring, either too fascinated or too terrified to move.

"Cenarius does not favor those who attack people whose defenses are down," Tilanne shouted in a rather calm voice over the falling hail and lightning, "his punishments are swift, though, especially when one of his faithful calls upon him." A bolt of lightning struck the deck immediately at Lester's feet, causing him to scramble out of the way. A moment later, the sky was clear again, and Tilanne grimaced, leaning down over the whimpering warlock, her eyes still glowing a bit brighter than normally, her dark blue hair illuminated by the moonlight, "Do not attack my friends again... if you decide to... I'd strongly advise it not be in my presence." And with that, she returned to Arrien's side, rubbing her back gently and soothing her, discussing how Giles would have preferred for his remains to be cared for.


	18. Chapter 17 The Commodore

**Chapter 17 - The Commodore**

The next morning on their way back to the island, Giles received a quiet burial at sea. The crew remained nearly silent for the remainder of the short voyage, Lester remaining in his bunk under the captain's orders. Arrien knew that nothing would come of Giles's death, that Lester would get at the most a mild slap on the wrist from Duke Falrevere. The only person left now that she connected with in the Buccaneers was Tilanne, who also had remained very quiet, prowling near Arrien always, in case Lester decided that revenge was needed. Tilanne and Arrien helped the men work as they headed in to Plunder Isle, quietly discussing the previous evening's events.

"How come you never told me you could do things like that?" Arrien whispered softly as she helped adjust the rigging.

"Because I do not flaunt the powers granted to me," Tilanne replied with a soft sigh, "I know you revel in your powers quite a bit, not nearly as much as Lester, but to some extent... I prefer to use them when necessary, and never any other time."

"You could have helped us in battle more than once, though."

"My powers come from a divine being... it would be an abuse to use them in acts of piracy, especially against people who I'd far from consider evil, though they may not be good." the Night Elf let out a long sigh, "I fear that the powers of Cenarius and Elune will be needed again, though... and soon." Arrien remained quite silent after this, pondering the dark words. She didn't want to think that things were going to continue to get worse, but found the concept completely inevitable, especially with Lester's continually growing influence over Falrevere.

The ship made it into port with little incident, Lester emerging from his bunk finally and shooting a harsh glare at Tilanne and Arrien, though the mage swore she saw a bit of fear in his eyes when he set eyes upon the druid.

"Being struck by moonfire is not something many people forget easily," Tilanne said with a satisfied grin, "of course, neither is having the entire crew hear you yelp like an injured pup."

Arrien gave a small laugh at this, but the fact that she had lost yet another person was still stinging inside her gut. At dinner, she did little more than poke at the lovely piece of fresh fish, which Tilanne rather quickly claimed when she realized Arrien wasn't particularly hungry. Her mind was going over the list of people who she had held dear who were no longer in her life, whether because of death or circumstance. Her mother and father, Selessa, Giles... it wasn't a long list, but considering that she had lost them all in a span of time slightly larger than half a year, it hurt quite a bit. She had a very brief whispered conversation with Tilanne about this all, and the Night Elf comforted her gently, assuring her that all would eventually be well with the world, just given a little more time.

Arrien wished that she could believe this, but found little solace in the words. She was trapped on an island with only one friend, a good number of people who had no more interest in her than simply getting in her bed, and at least one person who most certainly wished to murder her. It was not comforting in the least.

The next few days went by rather uneventfully, although many noticed that the Duke and Lester had been together in chambers for quite some time, with visitors including every high-ranking member of the Duke's fleet. Word quickly spread that something very, very big was in the works, and this was met with subtle celebration, as many of the men were suffering from being idle too long, however, Tilanne and Arrien took this as a very ominous sign. It was nearly a week and a half before Duke Falrevere rose during dinner to make an announcement, interrupting Tilanne and Arrien's discussion about whether or not there was too much coconut in the basilisk stew.

"Attention, everyone," Falrevere started, getting most everyone's attention, except those who were far too involved in their drinks. Noting that not everyone was paying attention, Falrevere made a quick gesture to someone behind him. Arrien sneered as she saw Lester step up on stage, a superior smirk on his face, now clothed in robes the bore shining silver runes on them, which Tilanne quickly whispered were demonic in origin, though the young mage had little to no doubt about that anyway. Lester made a quick series of gestures and a large plume of green fire sprang to life, shooting forth from the warlock's hands and sweeping over the tables, giving Arrien quite an uneasy feeling as it passed over hers. Falrevere smiled slightly as he noted that he now had everyone's complete attention. Even the most drunken sailor looked completely sober now.

"It has come to my attention that many of you feel we have been stagnant too long...well, no longer, I say! It is time for us to make our first serious strike," he gave a brief pause and smiled, enjoying the slight buzz of excitement this caused, "we have a great task ahead of us, and Lester, the captains of my ships, and I have all been working on plans for what is to come..." Lester smirked and gave a slight bow, stepping into the shadows. Arrien thought she saw him whispering to someone, but her vision was obscured by the darkness, though she thought she made out a pair of glowing eyes.

"We will be taking a stab at the heart of the goblins... we will pillage and burn until there is nothing left!" A solid cheer emanated from his drunken audience. Tilanne and Arrien alone remained silent. "We will rid the world of their filthy kind... starting with the sacking of Booty Bay!" Another cheer, with some pirates even giving standing ovations, erupted, Falrevere looking quite pleased with himself, shouting above the din, "We plan to set out tomorrow and take the city... your ships will be lead by newly-appointed Commodore Zank." The cheering was interrupted briefly by sporadic whispers of what Arrien took to be doubt and skepticism.

"Commodore Zank has proven to me that he is far more ruthless than even my best leaders, and has more bloodlust than even I can begin to fathom," Falrevere continued, "and I think it shall serve you all well to listen to his commands carefully. Those who do not will find themselves severely punished." At these words, Arrien thought she saw the eyes near Lester glow brighter with delight. Arrien turned to Tilanne, only to find that her friend was not next to her, but making haste towards the beach. The mage quickly followed behind, calling out for her to wait.

"I am going to take one of the boats and row to Booty Bay if I have to!" Tilanne snapped, a desperate look in her eyes, "I am not going to let these beasts rape and murder the thousands of innocents that live in that city."

"Even if you set out tonight in one of the row boats, we would never make it to Booty Bay before the fleet does," Arrien said, "our best bet is to simply go with them and I can teleport us to the shore once we're in sight of land."

"Do you think you're strong enough to do that?" Tilanne asked, her eyebrow quirked as she contemplated this new plan, "you said that teleportation tends to tire you out."

"It's better than not trying," Arrien said, "tomorrow when the ships set sail... there will be two mutineers aboard it." The mage smiled darkly in the moonlight, plans already forming in her mind of ways to save Booty Bay.


	19. Chapter 18 Distraction

**Chapter 18 - Distraction**

The next evening, Tilanne and Arrien found themselves on board the _Devil Shark_ under the command of Commodore Lester Zank. They co-operated with each of his orders, quietly working amongst the other crewmembers, though quite certain they were under much more scrutiny by their commander.

"Have you heard the noises coming from Lester's chambers at night?" Tilanne whispered to Arrien, whipping her long braid over her shoulder as she tugged firmly at a rope, adjusting one of the sails, which, she did not know, as Arrien was still teaching her the finer points of sailing. The art was entirely lost to her and she reminded Arrien again and again that, although she found the sea beautiful, she was much more interested in being closer to the land and the plantlife it contained.

"Yes...the low grumbling that sounds like talking in some odd language?"

"It sounds like Eredun... the language of the demons. I've heard it spoken before, at a rather dark place in Desolace," Arrien tilted her head in curiosity at the unfamiliar name of this place, but Tilanne continued without explaining, "it sounded rather like a Voidwalker."

"Which is...?"

"A large, blue demon... enjoys torturing other lifeforms and draws energy from their lifeforce. I've seen the practice... it's not very pretty," she sneered slightly.

"But the people of your land that you've told me about seem so... peaceful, not the type to go and summon demons," Arrien said, looking over her shoulder to see if Lester was approaching.

"My ancestors were the type... and there are still remnants from their follies," Tilanne sighed, wiping her brow, satisfied with the new positioning of the sail. "It seems Lester managed to summon a demon in the past week, and that impressed the Duke considerably. Of course, the question that follows is as always with warlocks... does the warlock control the demon, or the other way around?" The red-haired mage found herself shuddering at this implication. The last thing these bloodthirsty brutes in the Buccaneers needed was an even more bloodthirsty commander. At least Falrevere was somewhat sane, as opposed to Lester, who was proving to be more and more of a threat, which Arrien herself was not powerful enough to deal with. Tilanne had added that with a demon at his disposal, her powers granted by Cenarius wouldn't even prove to be enough of a challenge. The Night Elf also pointed out that the last time they had fought, she had the element of surprise against Lester, who she was sure wouldn't underestimate her again. Arrien looked towards the bow of the ship and smiled, seeing that land was beginning to come up on the dark horizon.

"Oy!" The shout came up from the crow's nest, "There's a ship approaching us from the aft, gaining quick! Looks like a goblin steamer!"

Commodore Lester rushed to the aft of the ship and smiled predatorily, "Well," he spoke loudly enough for all to hear, "we can't have them rush up to Booty Bay and let them know that there are six ships of the Bloodsail Buccaneers heading their way, now can we? Signal the other ships to intercept... we have a small fight on our hands, it seems." Tilanne and Arrien shared a look. This was the distraction they'd need. It was a shame that it came along with more bloodshed. It was mere moments before the goblin ship was positioned between two of the Bloodsail vessels, who immediately opened fire. Surprisingly, the goblin ship had been ready with goblins armed with grappling hooks, who boarded the _Devil Shark_ and put up a rather valiant fight. Tilanne and Arrien managed to mostly avoid the battle, Tilanne taking on her panther form and slinking off into the darkness after telling Arrien to meet her at the bow of the ship in a few moments.

Arrien decided to use these few moments to begin using her talents, firing off blasts of fire, not at any specific target, and especially not at the goblins, but at the _Devil Shark_ herself, causing a great deal of destruction to the ship and even lighting one of the main sails ablaze. She let out an almost sinister giggle as she watched the blaze consume the cloth, but was cut short when she was knocked to the ground by one of the Bloodsails slamming into her. She extricated herself quickly and saw that the pirate had an enormous, sleek black wolf at his throat, snarling and biting. Arrien cringed, seeing the pool of blood emanating from the man's ruined neck. A dark form knelt beside the wolf, gently stroking it and murmuring to it in a language Arrien recognized, but couldn't place. The form rose to its full height, revealing a Night Elf woman in dark leather armor. The red-haired mage couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was, her light purple skin offset by markings over her glowing eyes. Her dark hair flowed down to her shoulders and she had a very athletic build. The Night Elf woman looked up at Arrien and began to notch an arrow into her longbow. As Arrien realized that, as an apparent Bloodsail, she was this woman's next target, she panicked, and began to shout a protest as an explosion rocked the deck, sending the Night Elf woman tumbling backwards, falling off the deck into the water below. Her wolf regained its footing quickly and emitted a sharp bark, followed by a series of whimpers before diving after its master.

Arrien, meanwhile, was knocked off her feet by the blast, and slowly regained her footing, feeling something hot and wet trickle from her forehead. As her vision returned to her, she realized that it was somewhat obscured by a small bit of blood that had dripped into her eyes. The mage began to rush toward the bow of the ship, looking for Tilanne frantically, the sounds of the battle raging all around her.

"Looking for someone?" She heard a voice call from behind her. She wheeled about to see Lester, his rapier pointed at Tilanne's throat. The druid looked more annoyed than frightened for her life, and almost seemed a bit bored.

"What are you doing up here, attacking your own crew, Lester?" Arrien demanded.

"I was wondering the same thing when you lit the sails on fire... and that is Commodore Zank to you, by the way," he stated calmly, a fire of insanity dancing in his dark eyes, "we'll have captured the goblin ship in no time..." he paused, hearing the sounds of the battle beginning to die away, "in fact... it sounds like we've already nearly won. Oh, I'm going to enjoy killing the both of you... then I'll start to get to work on reshaping the direction the Buccaneers are heading... start training more in my arts."

"Falrevere wouldn't allow that!" Arrien protested.

"Oh, but it was his idea," Lester smirked, "he wants a number of warlocks to go along with his fighting men... since we're far less afraid of doing dirty work than you pitiful mages." The ship had almost grown silent, with the exception of the cries of the dying and the crackling of the fires started by gunpowder and Arrien. The mage noticed that one of the fires was following a trail of gunpowder that came near her foot, then looked back up at Lester and smiled confidently.

"I think you underestimate our willingness to fight dirty, Lester," Arrien grinned.

"I _told_ you, you insolent peasant... that's Commod---" he got no further, as the fire entered Arrien's field of vision and she made a swift hand gesture, commanding the fire to form a small ball which quickly flew into Lester's face. The warlock cried out in surprise and pain and dropped his rapier, which clanked harmlessly onto the deck. Arrien grabbed Tilanne's wrist and looked over her shoulder, where she could see the city lights of Booty Bay in the distance. She turned back around to see Lester snarl at her, the left side of his face a bloody, charred mess. He began to lunge for the pair, but Arrien closed her eyes and concentrated on the distant shore, gripping Tilanne tight against her, and Lester found himself stumbling forward through thin air, a loud curse escaping his lips into the night.


	20. Chapter 19 Old Favors Returned

**Chapter 19: Old Favors Returned**

The world was black now, and very, very wet. It took Arrien a few moments of gulping greedily for air and flailing around a good bit before she realized that she was several hundred feet from her target: the beach just outside the main gate of Booty Bay. She looked all around her for Tilanne, clutching the bag which held all of her worldly possessions, which were not quite thoroughly soaked, but couldn't see her Night Elf companion. As she finally managed to tread water, she turned about to see that she was a rather long distance away from the ships, which she could barely see from her current location. A wave suddenly knocked her about, nearly causing her to lose her grip on her bag. She spit out salt water and cried out.

"Tilanne! Tilanne, where are you?! This isn't funny!" She let out a quiet whimper. A sinking feeling in her gut told her she had just lost the last person that she had to cling to. Arrien glanced back to the ships, half tempted to teleport back to see if she could find her friend, and maybe even rescue the other lovely Night Elf she'd seen back on the _Devil Shark_, whose misfortune and subsequent blowing up she placed the blame squarely on herself for. She found herself praying to the Holy Light, to Cenarius, Elune... whoever would listen, that Tilanne and that Night Elf woman would be okay. Almost as an answer to these silent prayers, she felt something large and rubbery brush up against her leg. She looked down to see a rather large, purple seal looking up at her, mischief dancing in intelligent eyes. The seal flapped its fin, nudging at Arrien's hand, and the mage took the hint and grabbed on as they sped towards the shore, significantly faster than it would have been if she had attempted the swim. A few minutes later, Arrien found herself choking up salt water on the sand while the seal beached itself, transforming itself back into Tilanne's lithe form, a grin playing across her features as she attempted to clear her ears of water.

"I thought you were a goner," Arrien coughed, dropping her bag on the sand. Murgle pawed his way out, mewling irritably and shaking himself in futile attempts to dry his fur. He gave Arrien a glare that went largely ignored as the mage flung her arms around the Night Elf, who laughed.

"Thought you could get rid of me with a little water? It takes a bit more than throwing me directly at nature to get me down," Tilanne smirked. "What took you so long with throwing the fire in Lester's face, anyway?"

"I couldn't conjure any fire, that would have taken a fraction of a second too long... as soon as a bit of fire got close enough, though," she smiled satisfactorily, but suddenly remembered another victim of her pyromancy. "There was another of your kind on the ship, Tilanne! She had a big black wolf, and... and... I think I may have started the fire that blew up the deck and sent her flying back into the water," she frowned, "I... I... I hope it wasn't anyone you knew. I mean, I didn't mean to hurt her." There was a small part of her that was proud of the fact that she'd done that much damage to the ship in so little time, but it was overshadowed by the thought of having accidentally severely injured someone who was only defending themselves. Property damage didn't bother Arrien at all, just the loss of life.

"My people are more resilient than we look," Tilanne smirked, "I'm sure she's all right... but I'm not sure we can say the same for Booty Bay if we don't hurry along." Arrien nodded agreement as she gathered up her things, scooping Murgle up by the scruff of his neck and placing him on her shoulder, where he perched quite contently. They could see the gates of the goblin town from where they were, and it took very little time to reach the limits of them. The mage studied their design, rather fascinated at what appeared to be the jaws of a giant shark, and half-wondered whether they were from a real creature or if they had simply been fabricated to look intimidating. All manner of ill-intentioned people were leering at the Night Elf and human as they entered and exited the gates under the close watch of two goblin guards.

"Hold it there!" one of the goblins called as the two women passed, "Let me get a good look at you." He stared up from the height of Arrien's knees, his eyes full of scrutiny. "We've been on the look out for someone by your description working with the Bloodsail Buccaneers, helped ransack the _Gilded Lady_ a few months back?" He levelled his oversized rifle at Arrien's head, "my cousin Grimbal was on that boat... never heard from him again... I think we should take you in for questioning."

"We don't have time!" Arrien snapped back, her eyes full of fire, "there is a Bloodsail fleet on their way to attack Booty Bay, we need to speak with whoever is in charge here."

"Oh, the Baron very well may wish to have an audience with you... but I have a feeling this whole invasion thing might be a ploy..." The goblin narrowed his eyes. A fireball flared up in Arrien's hand in anger, and she took a fighting stance, one hand prepared to draw her sword. "Stand down or I'll blow your head off!"

"What joo doin, mon?" Arrien heard a young voice ask from behind her, "dis lady saved m'life..."

"Kul'kar, if you're done with your hunt, bring your goods to the butcher... I have guard work to do," the goblin growled. The voice sounded so familiar to Arrien, who risked momentarily letting her guard down to turn her head to see, first, that Tilanne had already pinned the other guard against the wall by his neck, much to the amusement of a few of the drunkards around, but then looked down to see the young troll from the village massacre.

"Joo let me live in jour city... I tellin' joo... dis lady isn't wit' da Buccaneeahs," Arrien tried not to smile at the troll's horrific lack of grasp on the common tongue.

"See? Is that good enough for you?" Arrien crossed her arms, satisfied, "my companion and I escaped from them just now... and we came to warn you of the imminent invasion."

The goblin considered this for a moment, then growled a bit, waving his hand to indicate that they should move forward, "Kul'kar, show them to Baron Revilgaz... and I'm warning you, troll-boy... if this ends up being a trap, it's your head." Kul'kar nodded firmly, grabbing Arrien and Tilanne by the hand and dragging them away. The guard the Night Elf had been holding up fell to the ground with a thud, resulting in much more drunken laughter. The only reply the other goblin received to his comment to Kul'kar was a sharp hiss from Murgle.

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The meeting with Baron Revilgaz was rather brief. As soon as he had seen the state the two women were in, he realized there was trouble afoot. The goblin boss, a bit larger than the rest of his fellows, and rather better dressed, with a pretentious-looking monocle perched on his left eye, had sent word to all of the ships of the Blackwater Raiders, his privateer company, to prepare for the invasion. Another of the goblin's officers rushed to the tavern to see how many semi-sober men he could find, and find out if any of them had battle-worthy boats to aid in the town's defense. In under an hour, three large ships and about a dozen smaller vessels were at the mouth of Booty Bay's harbor, ready to defend the cove as best they could. Arrien and Tilanne found themselves on one of the Baron's personal ships, along with a number of misfits from the local tavern.

"Get back here, you little bugger," Arrien heard a voice growl from behind her as she felt something small and leathery brush past her leg. She looked down to see a small green figure with large ears, horns, and a mouth full of pointed teeth. She let out a soft shriek and jumped backwards.

"I'll send you back to the Nether if you don't behave yourself... now... here's a snack for you," Arrien looked up to see a dark-robed man with shoulder-length dark hair and a goatee pluck an eyeball from a pouch in his robes. He looked up at Arrien and Tilanne, shaking his head, "Demons... they love the strangest things," he murmured as he dangled the eyeball just out of the imp's reach, smirking as it danced and grasped for it before he dropped it.

"You're a warlock?" Tilanne asked, a bit of a low growl in her voice.

"No, I just collect demons as a hobby," he said in a droll tone of voice, clearly unamused, "yes... I am a warlock... and before you ask... no, I don't flay babies or sacrifice virgins. I like to think of myself as a bit better than those types..." Arrien eyed him skeptically, "At least, I haven't flayed a baby in at least... three and a half weeks," he added with a smirk. The mage sincerely hoped he was joking, but found herself able to trust him much more easily than she had the last warlock she met, though she could see in Tilanne's eyes that the druid still fully distrusted any users of dark magic.

"So what are you doing out here helping us?"

"I like to think of myself as an opportunist," he muttered, studying his fingernails in a rather bored manner, "this was an opportunity to get myself in better standings with the Baron... which means more money... and better booze." He laughed softly, a gesture Arrien found herself returned.

"My name is Arrien," she said, bowing slightly.

"Heathcliff... and, in addition to the opportunity, by the way, there was something else that brought me out here tonight."

"What was that?" Tilanne inquired this time, narrowing her eyes a bit.

"Quite simple, really," he remarked, procuring an apple from a pouch on his belt, glancing out at the approaching Bloodsail fleet as he bit into the fruit, "I was bored to tears."


	21. Chapter 20 The Battle of Booty Bay

**Chapter 20: The Battle of Booty Bay**

The battle had been raging for nearly half an hour now, the large Bloodsail ships clearly outnumbered by the resistance they encountered. They were, however, largely manned by expert marines formerly of the famous Kul Tiras fleet. Cannon fire rang loudly in Arrien's ears as she observed the chaos before her, causing quite a bit of it herself. Her warblade swinging wildly in one hand, she ran through a Bloodsail with ease before leaping backwards and summoning forth a ball of fire to throw at the back of yet another, who jumped overboard in an attempt to extinguish himself. The moon was shining overhead, and Tilanne was using this to her advantage. Arrien could see brilliant flashes of moonfire all around her, consuming many a pirate in iridescent white light. She nearly tripped over one of the druid's victims, a thin trail of pearlescent fire drifting forth from his motionless lips.

Across the deck, Arrien saw a pirate sneaking up on Tilanne, weapon drawn. The mage tried to shout at her friend, who was quite involved in her present fight, deflecting blow after blow of a Bloodsail's blade with her staff, getting in a few good prods here and there for good measure. Arrien's voice fell before it even came close to reaching the druid, and her warnings went unheeded. Suddenly, an orb of pure shadow slammed into the back of Tilanne's ambusher, causing the pirate to yell out suddenly in pain. The buccaneer Tilanne had been dueling also was suddenly hit by a similar ball of shadow, knocking him off-balance and allowing Tilanne to get one good swing at his head, at the very least throwing him into unconsciousness. The druid whirled about to see Heathcliff standing above her on the stairs leading to the poop deck, smirking at her as he pointed his finger to the ambusher behind her, who now had Heathcliff's imp attached to his face and was writhing about on the deck, attempting to extricate himself. Tilanne nodded to him, quickly, but gratefully, and called forth a sparkling ball of green energy, letting the fury of nature's wrath fly at a pirate who had sneaked up on Heathcliff, who was still rather amused by his pet's actions.

Friends seemed to come from the most unexpected places, Arrien thought to herself as she conjured a number of bright violet arcane missles, sending them flying at various targets. The mage leapt up onto the rail and wrapped an arm around one of the ropes as she looked out at one of the Bloodsail ships, an intricate spell forming on her lips. To her satisfaction, she saw a small spark in the lower decks of the ship where the cannons were kept, which suddenly grew into a ring of fire, a brilliant plume jutting forth from the center where the spark had originated. The ship exploded seconds after, flames consuming it from bow to stern. Arrien let loose a loud laugh as she watched the boat burn, completely taken out of the battle. Her elation was short lived, however, as she felt ice cold hands grip at the back of her shirt, yanking her back off the rail. She turned about to see that she was being held aloft by a large, dark blue, shapeless creature with glowing yellow eyes. Arrien was face-to-face with Lester's pet demon.

A sensation of pure agony erupted through the mage's body and she let out a scream, unable to think of anything but the pain and wanting to lash out at the demon, to destroy it, but was completely helpless, her body twitching from the pain until it finally ended.

"Wonderful creatures, Voidwalkers... don't you agree?" Arrien snarled as she heard Lester's cold voice speak from near her, "you know, it was fragments of your friend Giles's soul that helped me summon forth my friend here." He walked around so he was in Arrien's sight, the burn wounds she had given him earlier not looking any more attractive than they had when she left him. "You must be so proud."

"You're a coward," Arrien growled, spitting at Lester, smiling satisfactorily as it hit him square in the eye, carrying that satisfaction with her as she heard the demon's deep voice speak something that sounded like a curse and another wave of torment filled her body.

"I could watch him do that for hours... it really is entertaining to watch you squirm," Lester smiled sadistically as Arrien's body still twitched slightly after the pain left her. The mage grit her teeth together, not allowing the warlock the satisfaction of seeing her in pain.

"I'll take you down... send you... crawling back to Falrevere empty-handed..." Arrien growled, waiting for the next wave of pain, but it never came. The next thing she knew, hot energy seethed against her back, and the voidwalker's grip on her loosened, allowing her to stumble forward, loose. As she fell, she saw anger contort Lester's face as his pet lunged forward at Tilanne, who let free another column of moonfire at the creature, which bellowed in protest. Heathcliff's imp leapt onto the blue beasts's back, casting small fireballs directly onto the other demon's skull, cackling madly the entire time. The mage drew herself to her feet, just in time to see Lester beginning to cast a spell in the direction of the interlopers. Arrien swung with the broad side of her blade, catching the warlock in the side of the head and spoiling the spell. "You will give me the satisfaction of single combat," she growled, throwing her weapon to the side and fireballs erupting forth into her waiting palms.

Lester spat out a bit of blood from the strike, and glared at the mage, "So be it," he snarled, letting loose a bolt of shadow at Arrien, who easily deflected it with a crackling purple shield of energy. She let loose the fireballs, which Lester dodged bodily, summoning forth a wreath of green fire which he swung at Arrien, the flames striking at her like a whip and catching her in the leg, though most of the damage was done to her skirt. The mage extended her hand and an icy wind swirled forth, extinguishing Lester's flames, striking the warlock with small shards of ice. She saw him raise a hand and crackling green energy issued forth, striking one of the Bloodsail Buccaneers in the back. The pirate flailed in pain, wounds sprouting forth suddenly, while Lester slowly appeared to regain a less injured appearance, though the burn wounds did not heal even by the time the pirate dropped to the deck, dead.

"You are weak," Lester said to Arrien, firing forth a series of shadowbolts, which were met in the air by Arrien's own arcane missiles, "you cling tightly to your friends... they would serve so much better as pawns, as tools to use to gain power. It is what I've done all my life, and look at me now..."

"Pathetic and alone? Don't get me wrong, the scars look almost dashing, Lester, but... you seem so very lonely. Did your father never hug you?" She found herself gaining more confidence, smirking despite the battle that she was engaged in. More arcane and demonic energies clashed, "Or did your mother just not tuck you in tightly enough at night?"

"You dare speak of my parents?" Lester spat, "Yours probably coddled you day and night, not bothering to teach you the harshness of the world... they made you soft." One of Arrien's fire blasts caught him in the side, causing him to growl in pain as he patted his robes to extinguish them.

"Soft? No... they taught me love," Arrien spoke confidently, smiling coolly, "and quite the contrary..." Arrien suddenly vanished, reappearing behind Lester a second later, finishing her sentence, "it made me strong." Lester whirled about, just in time for Arrien to deliver a kick between his legs, sending him reeling backwards as she conjured a number of fireballs, letting them fly and knock Lester on his back, his robes aflame. He scrambled backwards, panic in his eyes as he looked up, trying to extinguish himself.

"This isn't over," he yelped, shadows enveloping him and pulling him into a void. Lester was gone. Arrien cast a glance around her, and saw that a good number of eyes were on her. The battle was finally winding down, and she could see three of the original six Bloodsail ships retreating away from the rising sun. Tilanne smiled at her, a few holes torn in her robes and a bit of her own blood spattered on her cheek. Heathcliff didn't look much worse for wear, his shoulder-length hair tousseled about messily and a burn mark on his forearm. Arrien paused to think on Lester's words and realized that, though the war against his kind may not be won, this battle was. She let out a cheer, which was echoed by everyone around her, including Heathcliff's imp minion. Arrien turned towards the sun, feeling that she had honored the memory of all those she had lost, finally setting their souls free.


	22. Chapter 21 Of Greetings and Goodbyes

**Chapter 21: Of Greetings and Goodbyes**

It was nearly impossible to breathe in the Salty Sailor Tavern in Booty Bay the entire next night and day, as it was completely packed to the gills with celebrating drunkards. With the dead of the battle either having been lost to the sea, or being quickly buried in the small graveyard outside Booty Bay with little to no ceremony, the denizens of the town quickly got about to what they did best: drinking copious amounts. Arrien was sitting up at the bar, grinning foolishly, having been thanked and congratulated all night. She idly sipped on a mug of rum.

"Don't let it go to your head," Heathcliff said next to her, smirking, "sure you helped save the town, but that speech you made while beating the ever-loving guts out of that kid was remarkably cliche." Arrien shot him a disappointed look over his glass of honey mead, "'Friendship makes me stronger!' I mean..." He was interrupted by a smack upside the head by Tilanne.

"I thought it was lovely, Arrien," the Night Elf said, nodding firmly as she sipped at her cup of tea, "Well... perhaps a bit cliche..." Arrien giggled softly, shaking her head.

"Just said what I felt at the time is all. I couldn't have accomplished all this without you."

"I should say," Heathcliff laughed, grabbing his imp as it tried to light a nearby celebrator's cloak on fire, "Of course that bit where you caused the entire ship to explode was a nice bit of magic."

"Well... I don't like to brag..."

"Yes, you do!" Tilanne protested with a snicker as she scratched gently behind Murgle's ear, who was in his usual spot, perched alertly on Arrien's shoulder.

"Hey, take a look over there, Tilanne, that a cousin of yours?" Heathcliff pointed in the direction of the door. Arrien turned to look and saw the Night Elf that the explosion had sent flying off into the drink, clearly unconcious, a woman in plate mail supporting her bodily on each side. One of the women, a blonde-haired girl who stared at the drunkards with an odd fascination, could not have been much older than Arrien, and kept glancing over at her companion, taking her verbal cues and trying her best to fulfill them, carefully moving the Night Elf towards a table. Arrien saw a large, black something moving near their feet, and saw that it was the giant black wolf, who snarled at anyone who drew too close to his master, before looking back at her with what the mage thought was a concerned look.

"We're not all related, Heath," Tilanne groaned irritably, watching carefully as well. The two women in plate made their way to a table where two men were sitting.

"Kindly move out of the way so I can put my friend down," the woman who was clearly the blonde's superior said. This woman had a bit of ethereal beauty to her, but was somewhat grizzled from life and war, not lining her face in the least, but showing deeply in her eyes. Her light brown hair was pulled up into a bun, though loose bits fell down around her ears and a few loose strands revealed her hair to be nearly as long as Tilanne's, falling to her lower back.

"Hey, it's not our fault your friend had a bit too much to---" the sailor's protest was interrupted by a loud crack as the darker-haired woman brought around her free hand to deliver a solid punch to the man's jaw, sending him stumbling backwards and out of the chair. The pair placed their injured friend in the seat, the blonde looking as though she was expecting trouble to start from her companion's actions, though no retaliation came, the victim simply moving to stand along the wall, nursing a bleeding mouth. Arrien found herself moving towards the others, without really even thinking about it, and mumured to the dark-haired woman, who was kneeling down now, her hand placed on the elf's forehead.

"Is she all right?" the mage inquired softly, a bit shy, as she still blamed herself for what had happened.

"She's still alive, so I guess the answer to that would be yes," the woman replied sharply, "I was supposed to meet her here tonight... do you know what happened?"

"There was an explosion during the pirate attack," Arrien said, feeling a bit nervous as the wolf looked up at her, sniffing her and staring with what felt like recognition, but not making any indications of hostility. "knocked her into the water."

"Well, Ewigkeit here helped get her to shore," the older woman in plate replied, affectionately scratching at the wolf's ears, "good friend that he is."

"By the way, my name is Arrien," the mage introduced herself, offering her hand to shake, though the other just looked at her as though she was rather odd.

"You can call me Lady Vi---," she stopped suddenly, breathing out a deep sigh as though trying to break herself of a bad habit, "I'm Silbyr... call me Silbyr."

"Rozial," the blonde woman said with a warm smile, taking Arrien's proffered hand and shaking it gently, "of the Order of the Silver Hand." The name forced Arrien to suppress a shudder, recalling the seeming madman who Selessa had kept from slaughtering her as he had her recently undead parents.

"Paladins, then?" She murmured, only to be ignored by Silbyr, who was muttering what sounded like a prayer, a soft white glow emanating from her hand and illuminating the Night Elf's face, which Arrien could now see, once again, was rather strikingly beautiful, with dark marks over her eyes in the shape of leaves.

"Yes," Rozial said, smiling brightly, "I am Lady Silbyr's apprentice." A small gasp came from the direction of the night elf, who was now slowly opening her eyes, groaning.

"Where... where am I?" She spoke softly, as though raising her voice might cause her head to explode.

"Booty Bay, Crish... you took a bit of abuse from some pirates."

"Pirates?" The Night Elf raised a hand to her temple, rubbing slightly. Ewigkeit was at her side now, nuzzling and licking at her hand. "Who are you?"

"Crishna, it's me, Silbyr... you don't remember, do you?" The Night Elf slowly shook her head in a negative, a rather confused look crossing her features. Arrien felt Tilanne and Heathcliff approach behind her to see what was going on. "Looks like she lost her memory," Sil announced needlessly, and Arrien swore she heard the paladin mutter under her breath, "maybe that's for the best, after all," as she fidgeted with a ring on one of her fingers, staring at the piece of jewelry with a bit of distraction.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Rozial asked, a frown crossing her young features.

"No... I can heal the body and spirit, but not the mind," Silbyr closed her eyes and snorted disdainfully. "So, why are you so curious about Crishna, anyway?" The paladin stood, bringing herself to her full height, a bit taller than Arrien, and rather intimidating at that.

"I... I... just saw what happened to her," Arrien said, fighting the guilt, "I had been wondering if she'd made it out alive." Silbyr's eyes seemed to bore into her soul for a moment, but it passed and the paladin sighed, wordlessly moving to the bar, coming back with two unmarked bottles, handing one to Crishna and drinking the entirety of hers in a matter of seconds. Crishna sipped at hers and choked, the drink clearly rather volatile, though Silbyr seemed rather unaffected.

"Let's go somewhere more private," Silbyr said to Rozial and Crishna, turning to Arrien and her friends, "we will probably see you tomorrow morning." As Silbyr headed for the stairs, Crishna followed groggily, Keit close behind her in tow. Rozial stopped and smiled at the red-haired mage.

"Don't worry, she'll be fine..."

"Is your friend always so... abrupt?" Tilanne inquired.

"She has a very... commanding personality," Rozial said with a sigh, "deep down, she really is a good person, just rough around the edges."

"I don't know, I rather liked the look of her edges," this comment earned Heathcliff a solid elbow to the ribs from Tilanne. Rozial bowed slightly, then chased after her party. Arrien felt an odd twist of destiny as she watched the three of them go and turned back to Heathcliff and Tilanne, a warm smile on her lips.

"So... I'm thinking about heading to Stormwind and continuing my mage training," Arrien stated matter-of-factly, "I think it's about time I learned more about who I am and what I might be capable of, instead of the crash course I've received lately."

"You'll probably just end up getting frustrated with the stuffy magocracy and lighting a few of them on fire, from what I've seen," Heathcliff snickered.

"You'll come with me, right, Tilanne?"

Tilanne remained silent for a moment before finally speaking, "I need to return home," she murmured, "I've been hearing from the sailors that demons took Ashenvale... destroyed the forests. I have a duty to mend them," she sighed softly. Arrien felt her smile fade and her shoulders slump.

"So... so you're leaving?"

"I need to. I've explored the world so much, now I need to go home, show some responsibility. I wasn't there when the demons invaded, I should go back and rectify that by helping bring life back."

Arrien's heart sank. Her best friend was going to leave her now, too. She looked up the stairs towards where Silbyr, Rozial, and Crishna had gone, silently wondering if they were planning on heading back to Stormwind, and if, even then, they'd welcome her amongst them.

"I'm heading back to Stormwind," Heathcliff said, "I live there... was just down here because I got a bit of cabin fever in the city. Plus, I had a unique... business opportunity to take care of." He smirked slightly, and the two women decided not to even bother questioning him.

The next morning, Tilanne found a ship that was departing immediately for Kalimdor to bring relief to the troops fighting the Burning Legion there. She and Arrien had a long, tearful goodbye, which Heathcliff mostly rolled his eyes at, but said very little, instead contenting himself with tormenting his imp.

"We will meet again," Tilanne said as she finally stepped onto the boat after a rather bone-breaking hug, "I can feel it... never question a druid's intuition." She wiped some tears from her eyes, offering a deep bow, before heading off to the boat, her few mean possessions in a sack over her shoulder. The tearful mage sniffled, heading back towards the Salty Sailor with Heathcliff beside her, trying fruitlessly (and rather poorly, at that) to cheer her up. However, somewhere deep inside, Arrien knew that she'd be reunited again with Tilanne at some point in the future. Another day passed, and Silbyr, Rozial, and Crishna finally emerged from their room. Crishna looked far healthier now, although rather frustrated and confused.

"We're departing tomorrow for Stormwind," Rozial announced, "you're free to come with us if you like," she said, mainly looking at Arrien, but glancing at Heathcliff to let him know that, although she was rather wary of someone who wielded fel magic, he was invited as well.

"It would be nice to have some travelling company besides a leaky mage," Heathcliff joked, earning him a harsh look from Arrien. Rozial, Arrien, and Heathcliff spent the rest of the evening sharing exciting stories of narrow escapes from the Undead in Lordaeron, battling with pirates, and the intricate magicks required to call forth demons into the world. Arrien looked past Rozial's shoulder now and again to see Silbyr and Crishna in a corner, Silbyr talking rather fervently, one hand always twisting the ring on her finger. In Crishna's eyes was beginning to form something of an understanding of events past, though Arrien couldn't quite tell if the huntress liked what she was hearing.

The next morning, the five boarded a ship heading for Stormwind. Arrien breathed out a deep, sad sigh as she watched Booty Bay slide away into the distance, knowing that her days as a pirate, as horrible as some of them had been, were now over.


	23. Chapter 22 The Birth of the Mutineers

**Chapter 22: The Birth of the Mutineers**

Arrien sat quietly in the tower in the mage district of Stormwind, half-reading the scroll that lay before her. Two years had passed since the affair at Booty Bay, and life had fallen into a dull rut. Every day she studied the works of wizards such as Khadgar and Medivh, but found their exploits far more exciting than the magical theories involved in them. Day after day, she was subjected to the odd look of the other mages, hearing their whispers about the odd red-haired mage who used to be a pirate. A few had been brave enough to ask her about it, but seemed rather disgusted by the barbarism involved.

The only mages she'd really managed to befriend were her new mentor, Archmage Fentonius, and a Gnome by the name of Lili, who generally went by the semi-pun nickname of "Lilibit." It was her mentor who broke her daydreaming of the seas this day.

"How are you doing today, Lady Arrien? Catching up on your homework?" His blue eyes sparkled with life, despite the fact that his body was slightly stooped by age.

"I'm well, Master Fentonius... how are you?"

"If I were any better, I'd have to be a twin," came his usual, rather curious, response, a grin forming on his mouth, "You been behaving yourself lately?"

"Yes," Arrien said with a sigh.

"Well, that's no good..." Fentonius scolded mildly, "Can't have any fun if you're behaving yourself all the time."

"Isn't that what the archmages expect of me? Study constantly until I am snooty and dull like the lot of them? They already give me difficulties because of the company I keep," she referred mainly to Heathcliff, who she had maintained a friendship with these past couple of years.

"Ah, the archmages wouldn't know a good time if it jumped up their robes," Fentonius laughed, "in fact, I seem to remember once when a good time _did _jump up Master Almnadeus's robes..."

"Do I want to hear the rest of this story?" Arrien grimaced, not wanting to picture what exactly kind of good time the archmage was referring to.

"No... no, probably not. Arrien, I can see you're not happy here, just like Selessa had been unhappy upon her return from the Plaguelands. The war was hard on her kind, of course... so many of my old High Elf students are succumbing to this arcane addiction, as they're calling it. Was a brave thing she did, becoming a paladin in light of it all," the elderly mage nodded his head matter-of-factly.

"I just don't want to spend the rest of my life couped up in a keep, studying text books," she sighed, flattening out her robes, which were far too flowing and not form-fitting enough for her tastes. Blasted mages and their extreme sense of modesty.

"So don't," Fentonius said flatly.

"I'm sure the archmages would be thrilled with me leaving my studies behind."

"I won't tell 'em if you don't," Fentonius grinned wickedly.

"What's going on in here?" A small voice came from the doorway, "Arrien, are you still studying? Your brain is going to explode if you put too much in it." The red-haired mage turned and smiled at Lili, the Gnome's large blue eyes looking back up at her curiously. Lili was also wearing her violet robes and was currently keeping her brown hair in braided buns on either side of her head.

"Actually, I was just finishing..." Arrien looked back up, catching Fentonius's meaningful look again before jumping up to hug him, murmuring, "I won't forget this." The elder mage patted her gently on the back as she rushed for the door, grabbing Lili's wrist and running down the halls with the Gnome in tow.

"Oof... Arrien, where are we going?!" Lili inquired, but didn't really struggle against the pull.

"Doing some scrying... I have a few old friends I need to visit."

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Two Weeks Later

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"You're a natural at this," Tilanne beamed as the Gnome beside her murmured a prayer softly. The seed they had planted began to grow at an alarming rate and was soon a small, flowering bush.

"I was raised by the druids," Lilabah said in return, "I should hope I'd gotten the knack of it all by now." She giggled softly. In Tilanne's travels, she'd never met a Gnome quite like this little one. Lilabah's parents had created a teleportation device when she was an infant and decided to test it out for a "family vacation," it had been found out later when the Night Elves finally made contact with the larger Gnomish community. The teleporter malfunctioned, as many of the Gnomes devices tend to, and sent her parents to their doom, presumedly, but the infant Lilabah had somehow managed to miraculously land, unharmed, in the Moonglade, and was subsequently raised by the druids in their footsteps. Odd twists of fate, indeed, Tilanne often thought to herself, but who was she to question the will of Cenarius?

Tilanne looked around her and took a deep breath. Ashenvale forest was still no where near its former glory, with much of the ground so corrupted by demons it was unsalvageable, and another considerable portion of it lost to the continued deforestation by the orcs. The druids, however, had managed to reclaim some of the forest back, re-beautifying it and making it liveable again.

"Who's that?" The Night Elf was drawn out of her reverie by Lilabah, who was pointing at a female figure, clad in a red shirt that clung tightly to her curvy body, with black pants to match. Upon further inspection, Tilanne saw that the woman's hair was nearly the color of her shirt and beamed brightly, jumping to her feet and shouting.

"Arrien!" She ran towards the mage and embraced her tightly, "You look well! How is everything? Are you still in contact with Heathcliff or Rozial? I've missed you so... it's been, what, two years now?" Arrien was laughing heartily at her friend's excitement and finally replied, cryptically.

"All in good time, Tilanne... well... not very much time," she smirked devilishly, nodding to the Gnome. Tilanne made quick introductions before turning back to Arrien.

"So, join us for a cup of tea? We can tell Lilah all about the old times!"

"Actually, we both have a business meeting to attend," Arrien said, the devlish smile still keeping her lips upturned.

"But... Arrien, I'm in the middle of a project here, we're trying to regain the forest----"

"Go with her," Lilabah chimed in from behind, "I can take care of the rest... I'll tell the others that you went to go help a wounded deer or something." Tilanne opened her mouth to protest, but saw that Arrien and the Gnome had caught each other's eyes and knew her decision had been made for her. Before she could even say anything else, she felt herself fall away from Ashenvale Forest, and the continent of Kalimdor disappeared before her eyes.

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Less than a second later, Tilanne felt her feet firmly on a wooden floor. She glanced about to see that she was in a small room, judging by the way the air felt and smelled, somewhere by the ocean.

"Welcome back to Booty Bay," Arrien grinned. Tilanne looked about the room and saw an odd assortment of people. Heathcliff, dressed in alarmingly purple robes, his beard trimmed neatly as always, sat on a plush couch nearby, stabbing his staff at his imp just to watch it duck out of the way and make rude gestures at him. Rozial was sitting near a small bar in the corner, knitting what looked to be a large pair of overalls; a Gnome in dark blue robes sat at a table with Crishna, giggling as she caused a miniature blizzard, which fell onto Crishna's wolf, much to the Night Elf's annoyance.

"Great, another elf," a voice grumped behind Tilanne, who turned to see a gray-bearded, balding Dwarf in what appeared to be priest's garb.

"Now, now, Gotren, let's all play nicely," Arrien soothed him, laughing softly.

"Fine... but if the lass pokes anyone's eyes out with those ears, I ain't gonna be the one who heals them," he snorted, taking a long drink from a mug.

"So... what are we all doing here?" Tilanne questioned, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

"We're here for the first official meeting of the Mutineers." Arrien said, matter-of-factly, nodding her head for emphasis.

"The--- wait, what?" The druid took a seat in a leather chair, which she found uncannily comfortable as she settled into it.

"I decided to use my favor with Baron Revilgaz to gain permission from him to found a privateer organization, provided that we give the goblins ten percent of any loot we may gather. I decided to give us the name to reflect our actions in leaving the Bloodsails," Arrien said cheerfully, moving to the table where Crishna and the Gnome sat, throwing one arm around the Night Elf huntress, "Crishna, here, is my first mate..." The huntress merely sighed and scratched at her wolf's ears.

"It was Silbyr's suggestion, given my experience in matters such as these," Crishna said, leaving many questions, but wearing a harsh look that indicated that, if asked, they'd go unanswered. Arrien lingered with her arm around Crishna for a moment before moving on, pointing at Tilanne.

"You... are going to head up recruitment," Arrien stated.

"But... I... I never said I'd have anything to do with this!" The druid protested, frowning.

"But you never said you wouldn't either," Arrien countered, and by the insane gleam in her eyes, Tilanne could tell that she'd already lost the argument with the mage, whether she tried to apply any sort of logic to the situation or not.

"So what is it that we're going to be doing?" Tilanne asked.

"Hunting pirates, stealing from the thieves," She replied gleefully, grabbing a large plumed hat from a nearby table and setting it on her head. Lilibit and Rozial giggled a bit, Heathcliff snorted amusedly, but Gotren and Crishna just shook their heads. Tilanne, still rather bewildered, decided to continue her line of questioning.

"Am I being shanghaied?"

"Effectively, yes... you have been drafted into service by the Mutineers," Arrien giggled, "And the only way for you to escape... is to walk the plank."

"Which, incidentally," Crishna finally piped up, "we don't have one of yet, so if you want to leave, you really can if you desire..." Arrien fixed a hot gaze on the huntress, who just shrugged, showing the slightest bit of amusement.

"Wait... don't have a plank, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you see... in the charter, I had tried to push for certain provisions, which the Baron decided to decline---" Arrien began to explain, looking a bit flustered, her curls bouncing about as she wildly gesticulated, before being cut off by the monotone Crishna.

"We don't have a ship," the huntress said with a disdainful laugh.

Tilanne looked from Crishna to Arrien, who shrugged slightly. The druid closed her eyes for a moment, trying to let her mind catch up with all she was being told. She, apparently, had just been drafted into becoming a pirate hunter by one of her best friends whom she hadn't seen in two years. Apparently, this friend also decided that it would be possible to patrol for pirates with no means of transportation. The hare-brainedness and haphazardness were very much trademarks of Arrien, who had always preferred to improvise, though, with her next statement, she contradicted this train of thought.

"I have a plan, though..." Arrien said, pulling out a map and pointing to a spot on the coast of a small island where an X had been drawn.

"And that is?" Tilanne inquired.

"Quite simple... I tracked, using information provided to me by the Blackwater Raiders, a small group of Bloodsails who are trying to expand their territory... So, quite simply... we're going to steal one of their ships."

"And how are we going to get there without a boat of our own, O Masterful Captain?" Crishna asked, a note of sarcastic amusement in her voice.

"Oh, don't worry... I have a plan..." The spark in her eyes as she launched into the details was enough to terrify an entire fleet of pirates. The Bloodsails wouldn't stand a chance, no matter how mad a plan might be devised, against the Mutineers, and Captain Arrien the Pyromancer.

To Be Continued

Author's Note: Yes, this is the end of this particular story, but I will begin working on a sequel soon. I hope you enjoyed!


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